


What We Lost In Asylum

by Emme2589



Series: Very Gay "Randall Lives" AU [5]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Andrew is a living saint, Angst, Bronev is there too but he only shows up for a bit, Established Relationship, Familial Love, Flashbacks, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, M/M, PTSD, Romantic Fluff, Vomiting, azran legacy but sooner, desmond is a lovable bastard, insane asylum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emme2589/pseuds/Emme2589
Summary: Hershel and Randall finally head to university after their near-death experience, but something is determined to follow them there, and something in their past just doesn’t want to leave them alone. Sequel toWhat We Lost In Akbadain.





	1. Chapter 1

Hershel stood outside his house, pins and needles in his legs from sitting on the bench for so long. The car that would take him to London had finally arrived, and now it was time to execute his final plan. He and his best friend Randall had just turned 18 a few months ago, as their birthdays were very close to each other, and it was about one year after Hershel had graduated high school (He had to wait so long because of all the time he spent in hospital).

Now that Randall was technically... _dead..._ he didn’t get to graduate.

“Hershel.”

Hershel was shaken from his thoughts, turning to the voice of his mother. At least he didn't have to hide anything from her.

“Be careful out in the big city, alright?” Lucille dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Hershel smiled, placing his hand on her head, “Ma, I'll be fine. I grew up in London, didn't I?”

“Why, yes. I suppose you did.”

Hershel carefully lifted his final, heavy suitcase into the back seat of the cab. He tried to be gentle with it, after all, it carried precious cargo, but it was just so dang heavy!

“Let me help you with that, son.” Roland took the other side of the handle, setting it down on the floor behind the driver's seat.

“Thank you, Pa.” Hershel brushed down his shirt, stretching his hands from the strain of the luggage, “I guess...I'll see you later?”

Roland captured him in a rough hug, “You could say that. See you later, my boy.”

Hershel laughed, “Thank you.” he accepted a hug from his mother next, stooping down to reach her height.

“Have fun in uni!” Lucille tried in vain to stop her tears, “I can't believe it! My baby boy is all grown up!”

“Ma...” Hershel averted his gaze, scratching the back of his neck, _“Don't embarrass me...”_

_“Sorry.”_ she waved her handkerchief, “Um, goodbye, Hershel dear...”

Hershel smiled at her good-naturedly, “So long.” he corrected, moving to climb into the cab.

“Hershel, wait!”

Hershel jumped, turning towards the familiar voice, “Angela?”

The blonde pushed through the crowd, pausing to catch her breath, “You didn't think you could leave without saying goodbye to _us,_ right?”

Looking behind his friend, he saw Henry and Alphonse had also come to see him off.

Hershel shrugged, his hands in his pockets, “I suppose not. I just figured you were...you know...” he couldn't say too much lest he give himself away, but he knew how the crowd would interpret his silence.

Angela nodded, “I know...” she gave him a quick hug, whispering softly in his ear, _“Please take care of him for me, alright?”_

Hershel whispered back, his arms encircling her gently, _“Of course.”_

Henry stepped up once Angela had backed away, “Hershel. May success find you wherever you go.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Hershel always thought that Henry’s formality was endearing, especially during times like this.

“Layton.”

Hershel’s smile fell looking at the last friend, “Dalston..”

Alphonse vaguely gestured towards him, “Take care of yourself, alright?”

Hershel’s arm went up to his sleeve, where an ugly scar was still healing from his last adventure, “Likewise.”

Feeling restless and slow, Hershel climbed into the cab, closing the door and gazing out the window. The car began to drive away, and Hershel was craning his neck as he kept looking behind him, the seat belt cutting into his jaw. When the people were too small to see into the distance, Hershel sat back in his seat, gave a long and heavy sigh, and reached over to the big suitcase to unzip it.

“About time!” Randall, very much alive, emerged from the suitcase, quickly taking the seat beside Hershel and reveling in the fresh air, “It smells like old socks in there!”

Hershel leaned into him cheekily, “Would you believe me if I told you that was once my gym bag?”

“No I wouldn't, Hersh. You're bluffing.” Randal stretched his legs out, _“Aaah,_ yeesh.”

Hershel let his head rest on the window, “Yep.”

“Huh?”

“It was a total bluff.” Hershel clarified, “Although, I _did_ find it in the attic. It’s the largest suitcase we own.”

“And it was still too small.”

“It's not my fault you've gotten so tall.”

“You know what, Hershel?” Randall casually wrapped both arms around him, “I didn't give you permission to sass me.”

“That's because permission for sass is not needed.” Hershel laughed as he was playfully shoved.

“Hey but, in all seriousness, it's really nice to see you smiling again.” Randall cracked the joints in his arms, “Hey, sir, how much farther to London?”

The driver of the cab had already been informed of the situation, so he didn't react to Randall emerging from the suitcase. Hershel thought his name was Raymond.

“We'll arrive shortly.” was his reply, “About fifteen minutes, I'd say.”

“Looks like we've got some time, then.” Randall tapped his knee, “What do you plan to study once we're there, Hershel?”

Hershel thought about the question. His mind went back to their conversation in Craggy Dale, when Randall told him he could study whatever he wanted, instead of feeling obligated to study alongside his boyfriend.

He really thought about it. It was a question that had been shaking him up for months.

Hershel snaked his hand into Randall's, “Archeology.”

“What!?” Randall stared at him in shocked disbelief, “But I said...”

“What you said was that I should have the choice to study whatever I want.” Hershel couldn't keep eye contact, so he looked down at their entwined hands, “And I want to study archeology. In truth, I did have a passing interest in it, but you kept pressuring me to pursue it, and that kind of soured it for me.”

“Oh.” Randall looked away, tugging at his scarf, “I'm sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault. You were just...a little excited is all. I can understand that.” Hershel leaned his shoulder into Randall's side, “But honestly, unless I change my mind while we're there, I don't really have a lot of passions. I don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life. I might as well at least minor in archeology.”

“Wow.” Randall kissed his cheek, “I'm so excited, Hersh. Aren't you?”

Hershel hummed in response, his gaze out the window as Randall buried his face in the crook of his neck.

Hershel was feeling nostalgic and bittersweet. _London, here we come._

***

“Sooo...” Randall heafted the big suitcase from the backseat of the cab, “What name did you register me under? You know, since I'm technically dead and all.”

“Ah, well...” Hershel opened the trunk of the cab to retrieve his actual things. Registering Randall under a new name was actually a very long and complicated process, more so than either of them were expecting, “I figured a completely new name would be too jarring of a shift, so your name in the school is ‘Randall Stones’.”

“Very creative, Hersh.” Randall took his glasses off to wipe away the sweat from the mid-morning sun, “Have I...actually been accepted yet?”

Hershel paused mid-shove, “No, but we couldn't stay in that house any longer. _Mister Ascot_ was suspecting us.”

Hershel watched as Raymond drove away, all their belongings under their arms. They began to heave their stuff across campus, grateful at least that their rooms in the dormitory would only be on the second floor.

“I got my acceptance letter last week, but for you, it will be a little more complicated.”

“Isn't it always?” Randall's suitcase hit the curb, “Whoops! Watch out!”

Hershel grunted, "Got it.” he stopped to rest once the two of them were on the sidewalk, “Obviously, you can't go through four more years of secondary school just to get a diploma, so I called ahead to ask what I could do with someone I apparently just plucked out of thin air. Here's what they told me on the phone; A diploma is not even required for registration. You just need to verify that you know what you're getting into and if you can handle it.”

“Really?” Randall scratched his neck under the scarf, “Hey, um...do you think anyone will recognize me here?”

Hershel hadn't thought about that. He was ready to explain what would be necessary to get in without a diploma, but upon hearing Randall's question, his mind went blank.

Finally, after some internal debate, he said, “I doubt it. Stansbury is too far and too remote for word to spread quickly. Besides, once people have put the pieces together and followed us here, we'll both already be adults on our way into the world by ourselves; And Ascot can watch you leave in the knowledge that you faked your death to get away from him.”

“HA!” Randall looked around to make sure no one had overheard, “I would LOVE to see the look on his face!”

“It would be quite novel.” Hershel agreed, “Now then. Let's get out of this sun.”

***


	2. Chapter 2

Randall was clammy by the time he returned to the dorm. Hershel was looking over the classes he would take in the lounge of the dormitory, rearranging them and dropping a couple to make room on his schedule. He looked up from his spot on the couch when Randall entered. The room was mostly empty, as classes still weren't due to start for at least another week or so.

“Hey.” Hershel cleared the cushions so Randall could sit down beside him, “How did it go?”

Randall collapsed into the cushion, “Terribly! I was so nervous!”

Hershel continued looking over his schedule, “You had no reason to be nervous. It's not like you were going to fail.”

“I know, but ever since that crazy man kept me locked in the house all day, I've just been so paranoid. What if they can see right through me? What would they do if they found out too?”

“They _won't.”_ Hershel gave him a side hug, “Trust me. They won't know.”

Randall let his hands rest in his lap, twisting them around each other over and over again.

“If I didn't do well enough...I'll have to leave...”

Hershel set his papers on the end table, “I know.” he gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze, “But even if you do have to leave, You could probably still find work in London, or even enroll in a different university. We'll figure something out.”

Randall smiled, “You're right. It's just easy to be pessimistic these days, you know?”

“I know. It's okay.” Hershel squeezed him one more time before letting go to return to his papers, “I'm sure you'll get in, though. Gressenheller is famous for letting in all kinds of passionate students. This will likely prove to be nothing but a minor setback.”

Randall laughed, holding the other boy close to himself even as he continued to look over his documents, “Honestly, what would I do without you, Hersh?”

Hershel smiled, briefly distracted, “I’m unsure of what you would do.”

“Sorry. I'll let you get back to that.” Randall briskly left the couch, “I’m going for a walk. Maybe there's more I can do around here.”

***

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._ That was the only sound in the room. Hershel was lying on the couch, surrounded by syllabuses from all his professors. He still wasn't sure exactly what he wanted out of this school. He was doing it partially for Randall. He knew they wouldn't be safe if they stayed in Stansbury, and Randall’s dream of becoming an archeologist was a perfect excuse to leave...but Hershel still wasn't sure why _he_ was there. Randall had dreams and passions, but Hershel just liked keeping himself busy, even if the task was mundane to any normal person.

He didn’t want to be here just because Randall was here. There must be a way for him to find a purpose for himself.

He looked up when one lone figure entered the room, carrying a tray with two tea cups on it. Randall set the tray down on the coffee table, sitting on the couch across from Hershel. He was holding an envelope in one hand. The seal hadn't been broken yet.

Randall spoke softly in the quiet room, “You still like earl grey?”

Hershel smiled, sitting up and cracking his back stiffly, “You know me too well.”

Randall wasn't the best at making tea. He often steeped it too long or with water that wasn't hot enough. Sometimes he didn't add enough of the leaves to the water, or he would create a viscous mass of wet leaves that no longer counted as a liquid. Still, when he got it right, it was decently edible, and Hershel appreciated the effort that went into it.

He took a sip from the cup that Randall offered him. It was a little strong, but Hershel didn't mind compared to the tea soup Randall made last month.

Hershel set the half-empty cup down on the coffee table, his attention going back to the letter in Randall's hands. He was being oddly gentle with it, compared to the way he would normally wring his hands, reducing anything he was holding to threads.

“Randall.” his friend's eyes went up to him, “What's that?”

Randall ran his thumb over the seal, “It's my letter. You know, with my results.”

“Oh.” Hershel carefully stood up. How long had he been on that couch? “Are...you going to open it?”

Randall’s eyes went back to the seal, “I really should, but what if I've been rejected?”

Hershel sat next to him, “Let's open it together. Remember, Randall; We can figure this out. I'm not letting you be alone ever again.”

Randall looked away, his grip on the letter tightening.

“Yeah. Okay.” Randall took a letter opener from the coffee table, taking great care to make a pristine cut along the top of the letter. He unfolded the paper inside carefully, reading it over quickly, _“We thank you for showing interest in Gressenheller University, we're impressed by your passion for learning and in our Archeology courses, we are delighted to inform you that...”_

A wide grin spread across Randall's face.

“'You have been accepted'! Look, Hersh! I got in!”

Hershel nodded, “See? I told you we would be fine.”

“Yes, but...” Randall dropped the letter to give Hershel a big hug, “I'm so happy! This is my _dream_ Hershel!”

Hershel hugged him back, “Yes, of course. I'm happy for you.”

And he really was. Randall had been sad more often than usual lately, so seeing him back to his usual self was refreshing. His enthusiasm was rubbing off on him.

And yet, Hershel found himself feeling slightly lost.

What to do now?

***


	3. Chapter 3

Hershel sat outside the cafeteria, taking bites of his lunch as he looked over his notes. He had a feeling that any normal person would be daunted by the sight of all his classes. His schedule was full to bursting. He was glad to have something to do, though, even if the sun was hot on his forehead.

“Hey, Hersh.” Randall passed him on the way to the doorway, “You want to come inside with me? It's getting hot out here.”

“Sure.” Hershel gathered his backpack before he gathered up his salad in its styrofoam package, “Did you get lunch yet?”

“Nope. I've been busy getting my schedule together.” Randall held the door open for him, “Heh. My mom would hate to know that I'm eating nothing but fast food.”

“Mine wouldn't like that either.” Hershel added it to his mental agenda, “We'll have to figure that out. We can't afford to eat out every day.”

“Come on, Hersh! Live a little, at least!”

Randall quickly left to to pay for a sub sandwich, following Hershel into the main part of the building, which was full of students having lunch. It was only at half its usual capacity, further highlighting how early they were into the school year.

Both of them sat down at an empty table, “So, how were your first classes?”

Hershel sighed, “Stressful. I'm thinking of dropping my Greek History class.”

“With Professor Delmona?” Randall looked over Hershel's shoulder at his schedule, “No way! All his classes fill up really fast because he’s such a good teacher! You can't get rid of that class!”

“But I already have other classes with him, and I fear I may have overdone it.” Hershel lifted his fork to take another bite of his salad, “If I'm going to drop any classes, I should do it sooner rather than later.”

They didn't notice when another student sat beside them, “Hey!”

Both boys jumped.

“Sorry!” she set her tray down, “I didn't mean to startle you. What are you doing?”

She had a round face with rectangular glasses and long wavy red hair. Hershel found himself growing nervous.

“Ah, nothing much.” Hershel gave Randall a jab with his elbow, “Randall here was just telling me not to drop any of Delmona's classes.”

“You got Delmona as a teacher?” her eyes brightened, “Randall is right. If you drop him, ten more students would be happy to take your place!”

Hershel rolled his eyes, “Thanks for your input, Miss...?”

“Claire Foley.” she shook Hershel's hand, “I'm a scientist!”

“Oh, so you're in the science department, eh?” Randall sat back in his chair, “Which branch?”

“Quantum mechanics. My friend Dimitri and I want to build a time machine.”

“Sounds ambitious. I love it!” Randall unwrapped his sandwich, “I'm going to be a famous archeologist one day! Don't tell anyone, but I've already been through the ancient Azran Ruin of Akbadain!”

Someone else in the crowd perked up upon hearing that.

“Hey, Randall.” Hershel gestured with his head, “Don't look now, but...”

“The Ruins of Akbadain have been an enigma for centuries! There's no way you really found it!” the newcomer was a lad dressed all in blue, with blond-brown hair that turned up in the back. He had just the start of a beard on his chin, so he couldn't have been older than Hershel and Randall.

“Well, I did!” Randall puffed his chest out in pride, “It's close to a remote town in the desert! I have proof!”

A third newcomer sat at the table, “Claire, who did you meet today?”

“Brenda!” Claire gave her a quick hug, “Randall here was just about to prove that he went to Akbadain!”

“That's impossible!” Brenda had her dark brown hair tied up in a long curl that fell over her shoulder, “I'd like to see this proof!”

Randall had stars in his eyes, “Of course!” he stood up as he dramatically procured a large gold coin from his front pocket, _“Voila!”_

The coin was one from the final chamber, where both boys nearly died. He hadn't grabbed it then of course, but he did find time to go back for some of them later.

“That's...” the second newcomer scratched his beard.

“Impossible...” Brenda finished for him, “The insignia of Akbadain...”

Randall smirked, turning the coin over between his thumb and forefinger, “Naturally, you should test it to make sure it's not a fake. After all, I know it's real, and I don't want there to be any doubt!”

Hershel was astounded at just how much Randall was enjoying the attention. He definitely had a streak of grandeur, and when Randall's excited pupils turned towards him, his heart leapt against his ribcage. It wasn't a bad pang, like his many close calls with Randall's father or with the robotic mummies, it was more like a spark of excitement. It was something he recognized from spending a lot of time with Randall. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

He started to smile, enjoying the feeling of being in love, but then his gaze dropped as the warmth was replaced with dread.

“Anyway, who are you two?” Randall extended his hand to Brenda, “Brenda, right?”

“Yep. Brenda Penford.” she shook his hand.

Randall turned to the bearded boy next, “And you?”

“Clark Triton!” he said enthusiastically, “I must say, if you've truly found a relic of Akbadain, you have already made history!”

“I know!” Randall returned to his chair, “Oh, but I can't take all the credit. Hershel was here with me the whole time!”

“Ah, so your name is Hershel.” Claire rested her head in her hands.

“That's right! His name is Hershel Layton, and he is extraordinary!”

Hershel bit his lip. Was Randall _too_ invested in his grandeur?

“I owe my life to him. See, he's my-!”

Hershel realized what was about to slip, “Randall! _Be quiet!”_

Randall jumped back when Hershel grabbed his sleeve, immediately clamping both hands over his mouth.

 _“Oh no...”_ Randall breathed, just loud enough for Hershel to hear, _“I almost...”_

They were frozen. Their three new friends looked on in confusion.

Randall got up with his hand over his eyes, then he bolted from the building.

“Randall!” Hershel’s knees buckled as he got up to chase after him, “Randall, wait!”

Randall disappeared behind the corner of the building, and Hershel kept running after him. He ran across the lawn of the field, through the parking lot, all the way up the stairs of the fire escape on the left side of the main building.

He kept going until he found a place that was empty of students; The building's rooftop.

“Randall.” Hershel finally caught up, “Randall, listen to me-!”

“I almost ruined everything.”

Randall slowly turned to him, lifting his head to meet Hershel's gaze. His eyes held a kind of sharpness, a stark contrast to his earlier excitement.

“I was too caught up in the moment. I'm not used to keeping this so hidden. It was always just Angela and Henry, or your mum and dad. I can't _believe_ I almost let that slip.”

He buried his head in his hands, turning away until he heard Hershel take the last few steps towards him.

“Randall.” Hershel gently took one of his hands in his own, his other on Randall's shoulder, “It's not your fault. You just need to remember to be careful from now on.”

Randall opened his mouth, but no words left him. He just gave a tired sigh.

After a long moment of silence, Hershel tried to turn him towards himself, “Randall-!”

“I can't do it.” Randall didn't try to pull away, but he did use his free hand to shield his face from view, “I can't keep it a secret. I want to proclaim to the whole world how amazing you are and how much I love you, but I know that I can't! I can't put you through...”

He trailed off.

“I know, Randall.” Hershel hugged him from behind, _“I know.”_

Randall let his arms fall, resting them on Hershel's arms across his chest.

“Sorry.” Randall pushed him away.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Randall.” Hershel held his hands instead, “It's okay.”

Randall gave a sharp exhale, “I mean, I'm sorry for running, I just...I was afraid I would cry in front of our new friends.”

“I know, but what did I just say?”

“What?” Randall stopped to process the question, “Uh...I have nothing to apologize for?”

Hershel smiled, “Come on. Let's go back.”

***


	4. Chapter 4

Hershel lay awake in his dorm that night, too tired to unpack any of his bags. He had his first classes that day, and he was completely busy from 6 am all the way until 7 pm. Not all of that time was spent in classes, but all of it was on campus, either in the library, or between buildings, sometimes with short 15 minute breaks to make sure he didn't burn out.

Randall was out at the moment, probably finalizing things with his own professors. Hershel was happy to have the day behind him, too drained to even try fishing his pajamas out of his duffle bag. Hershel’s dress shirt was pulled taut over his sweaty skin. It was bothering him.

He carefully sat up, kicking his shoes off before heading to the bathroom.

Hershel turned the bathroom light on, stepping in front of the sink to look in the mirror. He slid out of his vest, then he undid each button on his shirt, pulling it off to look at his arms.

His most prominent scar was the one just above his right elbow; An ugly white line than ran from his inner elbow up towards his shoulder. It was about six centimeters long, and it was repeated on the other side of his arm, indicating where the wound had originally pierced all the way through.

Hershel ran his finger over the line, absently staring at it in his reflection.

“Hershel?”

Hershel was violently jolted from his musings, instinctively covering his bare chest as Randall entered the bathroom.

“Yikes! Sorry!” Randall glanced at the mirror, “Are you alright?”

Hershel was unsure of why he had tried to cover himself. He let his arms drop, “I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?” Randall took his hand, “What are you staring at?”

Hershel looked away.

“Whoa. Where did all these scars come from?”

“Hm?” Hershel looked on the inside of his wrists. There were old scratches running up the length of his forearms.

“Oh. This is...” Randall touched the white line above Hershel's elbow. Hershel grimaced.

“I just got to thinking about it.” Hershel took his arms back. It wasn't as if he hated the look of scars or anything, but his were full of bad memories.

“I'm so sorry, Hershel.” Randall scratched his head, “But where did you get _these?_ I've never seen them before.”

Hershel had a vague idea. He scrutinized the old lines that decorated his arms below the elbow, something he didn't normally do, “I'm not sure. I've just always had them.”

“Really?” Randall looked at them again, one hand at his chin, “Scars like this must have been pretty deep for you to not remember how you got them. You remember everything, don't you?”

“I...I _thought_ I did...” Hershel ran his thumb over the lines. He'd had a photographic memory his entire life, so why were his memories of these scars so vague?

“Well...” Hershel thought back, though it made his head hurt, “I do have a vague recollection of sorts. I remember falling off of something, a bicycle maybe, and I remember my arms getting scratched up in the gravel of the old road. I remember...another boy was there...”

His chest became tight as he gave a sharp inhale.

“Huh? Another boy?” Randall gently shook him, “Hershel, are you alright? Who was the boy?”

Now he remembered why he didn't want to think about those old scars. The memories gave him such a feeling of existential panic. His breathing picked up. Something was resurfacing after so long being neglected.

_“Theodore! What did I tell you about riding off the road!?”_

He remembered something very specific. There were a few loud cracks that sounded like gunshots, and Hershel felt himself being tightly held against someone's sweater. The front door flew open, a woman's scream was heard, a strangled, “Rachel!” and then total silence.

Hershel opened his eyes. He forced himself to swallow.

Randall was still holding him, “Hershel...?”

_“I don't remember anything else. Please let it drop.”_

Hershel's voice had come out as a wheezed gasp. It was a lie. He was still remembering, but he forced those old memories to the back of his head. He squashed them down until there was no chance of them coming back up.

Randall, sensing his obvious distress, pulled him into a tight hug.

“Consider this conversation forgotten, Hershel.” he said, “Hey, it's okay. I've got you.”

Hershel took heavy gulps of air, his arms slowly encircling Randall until they were firmly holding each other close. They stayed that way until Hershel had come down from his panic, his breaths coming slower and more even.

“Shh. It's okay.” Randall pulled back, resting one hand on Hershel's cheek.

Randall's expression was unreadable. Hershel let his gaze fall.

“I'm...fine.” he said again, “I'm tired. I'm going to bed.”

He stepped around Randall to leave the bathroom, curling up under the covers of his bed and trying to forget the concern in the red eyes of the boy in his memory.

***


	5. Chapter 5

Hershel went straight to class as soon as he was showered and dressed the next morning. His memories had faded again, leaving nothing but a ghostly impression of a lonely red-eyed boy, staring at him with sadness and discontent. That was all he could recall, though. That, and the fact that the boy called him “Theodore”.

He knew something was wrong the second he entered the classroom. Professor Delmona wasn't there, and a stir of conversation was brewing in the very full room.

Hershel took his seat beside the boy he'd met in the cafeteria; Clark Triton, “What's going on?”

“Ah, Hershel.” Clark was nervously bouncing his knee under the desk, “It seems something came up with the Professor's daughter. We're waiting for the substitute.”

 _The substitute?_ “Do you know who it is?”

“No. Apparently this was incredibly last-minute.” Clark cast his gaze over the rows of anxious students, “Delmona has never had a substitute in this class before.”

Hershel took note of the way Clark wrung his hands, just like Randall always did, except it was more an act of nervousness rather than absent-mindedness.

Hershel waited for any sign of movement outside the classroom, but nothing happened so far, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a lot going on is all.” Clark looked over his notes, “Hmm...”

Hershel got his own notes out as the room suddenly quieted. The door near the front of the classroom opened, and in wandered a short man with a large brown beard that was just barely starting to turn white. He set a pair of round spectacles on his nose, turning towards the barrage of anxious students.

“Good morning, everyone.” he cleared his throat as he pulled a stack of books and papers from his briefcase, “As I'm sure you've all heard by now, Professor Delmona is absent today, so I will be filling in for him until he returns.”

Clark relaxed somewhat, “I see. The good doctor is back.”

“For those who are new, my name is Andrew Schrader.” Schrader opened to the marked page in the textbook, “Andrew is fine. No need to stick to any formalities, I'm still a student here myself. Anyway, onto the lesson.”

Hershel took notes as he always did, noting the jagged edges of the amber on the desk and the large insect encased inside it. Six million years old, found in east Asia. The corners of Hershel's mouth perked up as Schrader spoke fondly of archeology, sometimes even getting distracted from the lesson to talk of ancient civilizations he had seen first-hand. Crumbled huts made of brick, torn down by the elements and dried up by droughts and floods. It reminded him of Randall, and as always when Randall came to his mind, it made his stomach flutter.

He was still able to pay attention, of course. It was just a bonus. He wondered what Randall was doing now. He had his mechanics class at this time, right? Randall didn't have as many classes as Hershel, but it was still a decent amount.

By the time the class ended, Hershel had completely used up the ink in one of his pens. His notes were barely legible. Typical. He would have to clean them up later for proper studying.

He would have left right then and there, but Clark hadn't moved from his seat. He was staring down at his notes, one hand stroking his beard.

Hershel paused in the middle of putting his textbook away, “Clark, is everything alright?”

Clark massaged his temples, “I was barely following.” he set his pencil down, showing off the blank page he had opened up, “I don't know why I'm so absent this morning. I didn't even know how to write everything down.”

Hershel set his book back on the desk, opening up to the page number still written on the chalkboard up front. He was familiar with spacing out in the middle of class. He used to do it all the time back in his early secondary school years. He didn't want to leave Clark without coherent notes to study. It didn't feel right to him, somehow.

Deciding on a course of action, Hershel got his notebook back out, grabbing a spare pen just in case, “Do you have any classes right now?”

“What?” Clark took a quick glance at the clock, “Uhh...no, why?”

Hershel pushed the textbook towards him, “Let me help you.”

“Help me?” Clark grabbed his pencil again, “You would do that?”

“It wouldn't do to let you walk out of here confused.” Hershel referenced his notes, “Would you _like_ my help?”

“I mean...yes!” Clark sat up straighter, “Where do we start?”

Hershel began to explain, from the beginning of the lesson. It gave him a chance to correct his notes, which was nice, but it also allowed him to figure out where he had made mistakes in his own study.

“So each layer of rock loses carbon every year. It allows us to date them up to fifty thousand years.”

“That's actually the part I don't understand.” Clark turned the page, “If carbon dating can date up to fifty thousand years, then how do we date rocks older than that?”

Hershel laced his fingers together, his elbows on the desk, “We have other dating methods. For example, relative dating can allow us to date rocks based on similar rocks with known ages. Another method involves tracking the decay of radioactive isotopes, known as radiometric dating. Other methods can go back millions, even billions of years.”

Clark considered the information, “And the tree sap that encased that insect became amber over millions of years… _then the insect...”_

“The insect was found in a rock layer that was confirmed to be roughly six million years old.” Hershel pointed to a graphic in the textbook, “It was a layer that was also full of amber of similar chemical components, confirming the rock's -- and the insect's -- age in the geological timeline.”

Clark stared forward with wide eyes, then a giant smile broke out across his face.

“Ooh! I get it now!” Clark furiously scribbled into his notebook, “I think I can take it from here. Thank you so much, Hershel! You’re a lifesaver!”

Hershel felt a rush of euphoria, “You're welcome! I hope I'll see you later.”

“Yes, of course!” Clark gathered up his things to shove into his bag, “I'll see you later!”

Hershel was on cloud nine as he exited the classroom. What was this feeling? The explanation had come easily to him, and when Clark had finally gotten a grasp on the subject, Hershel had felt proud of himself for helping him. Learning was a passion, and...

_My passion._

Hershel burst into his dorm room, making Randall jump from his bed.

“Hershel, what...?” he stopped when he noticed Hershel's bright smile, his face warming up.

“Randall.” Hershel was out of breath from running, “I think I've found my passion!”

***


	6. Chapter 6

Professor Layton. Randall had to admit, it had a nice ring to it.

He was between classes at the moment, so he was just relaxing by himself. There was this really big oak tree on campus that he was leaning on. He was writing in his notebook for awhile, but once a gentle breeze started to waft down from the treetops in the distance, Randall had simply leaned back and closed his eyes. He was just on the verge of falling asleep when someone sat next to him.

“What are you doing?”

Randall opened his eyes, “Oh, hey Brenda. I'm not doing much right now.”

Brenda was wearing a purple shawl despite the heat. She pulled it tighter around her shoulders as she sat beside him, “I just wanted to give this back to you.”

Randall was wide awake when she handed him the coin from Akbadain, “Oh, thank you. So, it’s real, right?”

Brenda nodded, “Yes. It’s real. You should have seen Claire when she found out! When did you go to Akbadain?”

“Last year.” Randall pocketed the coin after marvelling at it again. He was just happy that his three new friends didn't mind that he had suddenly run off before, “Are you an archeologist too?”

“No, actually. I’m studying to be a historian.” Brenda shifted so she was on her knees, “What happened in there? Was it full of traps and enemies?”

Randall crossed his arms, a glint in his eye, “You bet it was! It was full of puzzles, too! We were jumped in the dark by robots designed to look like mummies! We had to use swords to-!”

He paused in the middle of his story, a sudden lump forming in his throat.

“Uhh...you know what? It was very dramatic, but it's not important right now!” Randall hurriedly said, letting out a nervous laugh as he tugged at his collar, “A-Anyway, what have you been up to?”

Brenda lifted one eyebrow at the reaction, then she frowned.

“Well, I'm not doing much at the moment, but Claire won't stop talking about that project she’s trying to make with Dimitri. You should see her when she gets to talking about it. I'm concerned she isn't sleeping or eating anymore.”

“Oh! Hershel used to do that all the time!” Randall was easily back to his usual self, “He would make himself sick sometimes he was so stressed, but eventually I had to tell him that if he didn't calm himself, he was going to self-destruct. Ha. He'd better not go back to that now that he's dead-set on becoming a professor.”

“A _professor...”_ Brenda marvelled, one finger on her lip, “I could see Hershel as a professor. I'll see if I can get Claire to relax, then."

“Hmm...” Randall stretched his legs out in front of him, “Hey Brenda, do you ever-!”

A crash reverberated through the valley, washing over the river Thames and shaking the ground nearby.

It came from the center of campus.

“Was that-!?”

Randall was up in an instant, “Come on! Someone might be hurt!”

They ran together back towards the school, where two mysterious figures were fighting on the rooftop of the science branch. One of them had a bushy white beard with black sunglasses and a blue suit. The other wore a masquerade mask over his eyes, a black suit and matching hat decorated with a feather boa and cape lined with a thick layer of fluffy feathers. The first threw a punch at the other, which they promptly dodged.

“I know you have it!” the blue-suited one had a deep voice, “Just cough it up already!”

The other grit their teeth, bringing their fists up to block the next attack, “You don't deserve it after what you've done! What of Theodore!? Me!? You are a disgrace! It would be my pleasure to kill you!”

The crash, Randall realized, had come from the science branch. It looked like something vital had been destroyed on the rooftop, but he couldn't see what it was from this angle.

“Come on!” Randall opened the door for Brenda, “We're going up! I'll call a teacher if it's really bad!”

“Okay!”

Claire was at the bottom of the staircase, along with a man Randall didn't recognize. He wore a lab coat, just like Claire, and despite his young age, his curly hair was completely grey.

“Claire!” Randall spoke first, “Is anyone upstairs!?”

Claire had both hands over her mouth, “I-I don't think so, but we can't go up to check. This kind of reaction could be hazardous without a mask!”

Brenda shook the man's shoulder to snap him from his daze, “Dimitri, don't you have masks here?”

He sighed, running a hand through his bangs, “I'm afraid i left ours upstairs. I already called for assistance, but they aren't here yet.”

Randall was restless just sitting there when people could be hurt. It wasn't in his nature to just sit around and wait. He wanted to _do_ something, _anything_ to help.

After steeling himself by jumping up and down a few times, he addressed Claire again, “What kind of toxin is it? Does it require a full gas mask or hazmat suit?”

Claire frowned at him, “Well, no. I think it's mostly just fire smoke, so it would be fine with just a medical mask over the mouth and nose, but Randall, if you're going to do what I think you're going to do-!”

“I can't just sit here and do nothing!” Randall pulled his neckerchief up over his mouth and nose, “I'm going up! You guys wait here!”

Brenda tried to grab him, “Randall, _wait!”_

Too late. He was already scaling the building. He could smell smoke through the scarf, but he tried to keep his breaths shallow so as not to accidentally inhale anything toxic. It only took a couple floors for his lungs to start burning. The building was completely dark the higher up he went, and he swore he could see blue flames in some of the rooms. He didn't dare try to put out the fire when he didn't know what type of fire it was and what chemicals must be burning, and he was trying to find people first and foremost.

He stopped by a window to lean out of it, taking a few huge gulps of oxygen. He coughed from the smell, his eyes stinging from the thick black smoke that covered each floor. He could hear more of the conversation from the two fighters on the roof.

“You know nothing, you rat!” Blue Suit, “The Azran will benefit humanity, and-!”

“You are hilarious, you know that!?” the one with the feathered cape was laughing hysterically, “What of your sons!? Your wife!? Are you honestly telling me that you willingly joined the organization that made your life a living hell!?”

Randall covered his face again as he retreated into the building. He was beginning to notice something odd, however; Aside from the first floor where Claire and Brenda still were, the building was completely devoid of human activity. It was almost as if the building was evacuated first, but he would have heard of that before the actual explosion took place, right? The science district of Gressenheller was too active to suddenly be so empty.

All that was left was the rooftop. Randall emerged from the final staircase to find a huge burn mark in the middle of the concrete, with the two fighters still throwing punches at each other near the edge.

Dramatic Cape noticed him first, “What are you doing here!? I said the building was on fire!”

Randall dropped the scarf, lightheaded from the sudden rush of fresh cold air, “This building is empty. What happened?”

“If it's empty, then you have no reason to be here!” they were distracted long enough that Blue Suit knocked them to the ground. Something small and white landed near Randall, and he paled when he recognized it as a tooth.

“H-Hey! Stop!” Randall didn't like seeing blood. It only showed up when someone was in pain, like when Hershel stared down at him with tears on his face, _“Stop fighting!”_

Dramatic Cape ran towards him, grabbing him and leaping from the rooftop. The wind whistled in Randall's ears, and the drop made his stomach do somersaults in his abdomen.

“This isn't over, Bronev!” Dramatic Cape called back up to Blue Suit, “You will pay for what you've done! Even if I have to kill you for it!”

They landed on the ground in a skydiver's position, bending their knees to catch the brunt of their fall. Randall had his eyes squeezed shut the whole time, and the sudden stop made him gag.

 _No risk, no glory._ He thought mockingly to himself, coughing violently as the other person set him down on his feet.

“What the hell!?” Randall coughed a few more times, shoving them away, “Are you trying to burn the whole science district down!? You're crazy! What if people had gotten hurt!?”

“Randall!” Brenda ran to him, “What were _you_ thinking!? You could have gotten hurt!”

Randall watched as Dramatic Cape’s smug smirk returned, “What? Not even a ‘thank you’ for saving your life? I suppose I should have expected that.”

Randall shook his head in disbelief, “Who are you, you creep?”

They threw their cape to the side, making it catch the wind and fly around them in a dramatic spectacle.

“You may call me... _Jean Descole.”_

Randall pinched his brow. He was sure he'd heard that name somewhere before, but where? This had to be significant, someone who wore an over-the-top disguise and who could leap from buildings without sustaining so much as a scratch...having a name that Randall recognized from somewhere. But where?

“Now, then. I still have business to attend to, so I must be off!” Descole saluted off the top of his hat, “Until next time, Randall.”

“Until next time?” but Descole had already lept into the air, completely disappearing into the sky, “Hey, wait!”

And just like that, the strange person was gone just as suddenly as they had appeared.

Help had finally arrived. The firemen swept the building up and down, but the fires, as they had discovered, were perfectly localized. Only the chemicals had burned. The building itself (including walls, furniture, lab equipment, etc.) was just fine. Things were scorched of course, and there were some ashes strewn about here and there, but nothing was really damaged.

Descole gave off an air of not caring who he hurt, even threatening that Bronev guy with death, and yet, he brought Randall back down to the ground where he would be in the crowd with his friends, away from the danger of the fire and, potentially, the man in the blue suit..

Randall took his glasses off, amazed that he still had them. What was he feeling? What was going on?

Who was Descole?

***

Hershel was invigorated by his new purpose. He went back to the classroom once his next class was over, hoping Schrader would still be there. Luckily, he was, as a different class he was filling in for had just gotten out.

He was still in good spirits, so Hershel felt comfortable approaching him, “Excuse me, Mister Schrader?”

“Oh, were you in an earlier class?” Schrader straightened his tie under the bushy beard, “And please, call me Andrew. I'm not even sure why Professor Delmona trusts me with his classes, to be honest with you...”

Hershel laughed, “Oh? I thought you gave a wonderful lecture.”

“Ah, it's not that.” Schrader walked around the desk, seemingly looking for something, “I'm a decent teacher, I suppose, but I'm not a professor. I'm still technically a student here, and I'm not used to being referred to with such formality. You hear me?”

Hershel wasn't sure he did, but Schrader -- Andrew -- certainly didn't feel like a teacher, “Whatever you say, Andrew.”

“Anyhow, did you need something?”

“Ah, yes.” Hershel shifted his weight to one foot, “My name is Hershel Layton, by the way. I’m unsure if you're the right person to ask about this, but I was wondering if there are certain qualifications for becoming a professor.”

Andrew eyed the wide grin still plastered to Hershel’s face, then he let out a good-natured chuckle, “You're right. I'm not the right person to ask, but I'm happy to point you towards someone who can help! Professor Green is good at helping students find career paths, so I would start there.”

“Wonderful. Thank you.” Hershel turned to leave, “Good luck with the rest of your day.”

“Thank you, Hershel. Heaven knows I need it.”

Hershel left the building with a spring in his step. It was too late today to go all the way to Professor Green's office, so Hershel decided he would go another day. Randall would be expecting him back soon, anyway.

When Hershel entered the dorm room, Randall was doing homework at the long desk near the beds. Hershel had entered quietly enough that Randall didn't notice at first. He was lost in thought.

Hershel watched him for a moment. His pen stilled, hovering just above his page of notes. They were strangely legible by Randall's standards, as if they had been written very slowly.

Hershel shut the door, and the sound made Randall freeze, “Randall?”

“Huh? Oh, hey, Hersh.” Randall stood up, his hands on the desk, “How was your day?”

“It was alright.” Hershel watched Randall return to his bed, “What about you?”

Randall tried to smile, but it was clearly strained, “Good.”

Hershel sat next to him on the stiff mattress, “Are you certain?”

Randall rested his head on Hershel's shoulder, “Yeah. I'm alright.”

Hershel was always on edge when Randall didn't talk, except to answer basic questions. Instead of prying further, as he obviously didn't want to talk about it, Hershel wrapped one arm around him.

“It's okay. I'm here now.” he said, “We're okay.”

Randall reached up to plant a few kisses to Hershel's cheek, “Thank you.”

Hershel laughed softly, catching Randall's hand as his arms wrapped around him, “For comforting you, or for dropping the subject?”

Randall buried his face in Hershel’s neck, _“Both.”_

Despite the stress of the past year weighing down on him, Hershel found himself relaxing in Randall's arms. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of earth and grass that always seemed to cling to his friend.

“Randall?”

Randall’s sigh was sad, “Yeah?”

Hershel took Randall's head in his hands, lifting it up to make eye contact.

“I love you.”

Randall snorted, laughing softly into his arm, “Where did that come from?”

“I don't know. I just thought I should say it.” Hershel ran his fingers through Randall's hair, “No particular reason.”

This was something Hershel had missed. It was easy for him to get too invested in his school work and forget how long he would spend with Randall, just side by side, not doing or saying anything. It almost felt like recharging a battery when he was given a chance to rest like this.

He was calm.

Randall was the first to pull away. By now, the room was dark enough that his pupils were barely visible, “We should go to bed.”

Hershel left Randall's side, “Alright. Goodnight, Randall.”

***


	7. Chapter 7

Hershel woke up when he rolled over and a bright light hit his closed eyelids. They fluttered open, catching sight of Randall on the other side of the small room. He had begun to notice that Randall rolled around _obnoxiously_ in his sleep, sometimes even throwing the blanket off the bed, or moving so that his feet were by the headrest. He would also always go to sleep with socks on, but by morning, they had been kicked off. Hershel was just glad that his own head stayed on his pillow all night, even if his shirt was always twisted by morning.

Hershel sat up to stretch, the morning sun on his back. Why was he feeling so odd about waking up this way?

His eyes snapped open. _I'm going to be late for class!_

He jumped out of bed, quickly getting dressed and brushing his teeth before grabbing his backpack to bolt from the dorm. It was already close to seven thirty. He was horrendously late, but if he hurried, he could probably make it for the second half of his first lecture.

He was passing by the dean's office on his way when he heard the voice of Andrew Schrader behind the closed door.

_“You spied on students!?”_

Hershel's heart plummeted into his stomach.

The fact that only a day had passed since he and Randall had openly shown affection towards each other made him paranoid about who could have been spying on students.

He felt bad about eavesdropping, but if he was afraid that Randall could be in danger (or worse; Found out by his father), he could set aside some politeness. He stood behind the door's hinges in case it suddenly opened so he could hide behind it, pressing his ear to the wall and listening closely.

_“You understand why we would need to take such drastic measures?”_

_“No!”_ Andrew sounded like he was on his last nerve, _“Even if what you say is true, do you know what will happen to them in there!? I won't allow it!”_

 _“You don't even have a position in this school, Mister Schrader.”_ the dean said coldly, _“I could easily expel you too. At least in the asylum, Layton and Stones can get help.”_

Asylum.

_Asylum._

_“You be quiet! I'll prove you wrong just to shut you up!”_ Andrew suddenly opened the door, “I'll get you fired if I have to! Just leave them be!”

He slammed the door, and froze when his eyes landed on Hershel. He was close to collapse, his knees wobbling and his lip quivering. He tried to speak, tried to explain why he was eavesdropping, but his throat was closed up. He couldn't breathe.

Andrew furrowed his brow, bringing a finger to his lips and gesturing down the hallway with his other hand. Hershel gave a silent nod.

Andrew led him outside the building, where the morning sun was casting a long shadow across the yard. Hershel was now taking shallow gulps of air, but his panic as a whole had yet to subside.

He wasn't sure if Andrew was mad at him. It was hard to tell. A range of different questions ran through his head, none of which he was looking forward to answering. _Randall. Mr. Ascot. The Dean._

_Asylum._

“Hershel,” Andrew took Hershel's arm, “Are you okay?”

 _Are you okay._ Hershel let out the breath he'd been holding, patting down the front of his vest, “Y-yes. I think so.”

Andrew looked behind him, making sure the two of them were alone, “How much of that did you hear?”

Hershel shoved his hands in his pockets, “Um...I heard that the dean is spying on students?” should he be saying this? It would probably be worse for him if he lied, but it didn't feel right to admit what he knew either, “And that he wants to, erm...e-expel me and Randall? And send us to asylum?”

“Hey hey, it's okay, kiddo.” Andrew waved his hands in a _“calm down”_ gesture, “I'm not mad at you, and I'm not going to get you in trouble. I was probably going to tell you about it anyway.”

Hershel rubbed his forehead, “Why are we getting expelled?”

“You're not getting expelled.”

“Yes, but why does the dean _want_ to expel us?” Hershel managed to get some irritation behind those words, but it was clear that he was still mostly just scared.

Andrew seemed to understand, because his expression softened, “He claims that you and your friend are in a secret romantic relationship.”

Hershel stumbled backwards into the wall of the building to stop himself from falling to the ground. Mr. Ascot came back to the front of his mind.

_Asylum._

“I don’t care if you are.” Andrew quickly assured, “It’s none of my business, but the way the dean is trying to punish you for it is unacceptable. I won’t let it happen, alright?”

Hershel squeezed his eyes shut, “Yes, thank you...”

“Hershel, seriously. Are you okay?”

He wasn't sure anymore. The word _Asylum_ just kept bouncing around in his head until he had fallen to the ground. Why? He'd never been to an asylum before. He hadn't, right? There's no way he would forget...

_Forget. Forget so it stops hurting._

“Hershel!” Andrew was shaking him, “Snap out of it! You're losing your mind!”

He remembered a stone room with a single bed and nothing else. He stared down at his tiny hands, too short for his feet to reach the ground. His scars were recent back then, still red and raw, covered with scabs. They wouldn't heal, because he wouldn't let them.

Nothing but an empty room. Nothing but his own thoughts. Nothing but the knowledge that even when someone came for him, it would only be the nurse. He hated her. She burned him with lightning.

Hershel did everything he could to swallow those old memories, but the floodgates had been opened, and pushing them back only made him gag.

_“Hershel!”_

Hershel blinked. His hands came off his face wet. His vision was blurry. He needed something to ground him in the present, or he would fall back into painful repressed memories.

He reached into his pocket, his hands wrapping around the nautilus fossil he still carried from the day Randall confessed to him. Randall's bright smiling face came back to the forefront of his mind, and the bad memories slowly retreated.

Normally, Hershel liked knowing he could remember everything. It was very useful, after all. But this was something he didn't want to remember. Whatever must have happened in his past, why he was in an asylum in the first place...well, he was safe now, and remembering it at this point wouldn't do him any good.

“Hershel, please answer me. What happened?”

Andrew was still here. Hershel had fallen to his knees, his hands on either side of his head. Andrew was holding his shoulders firmly, preventing him from falling all the way to the ground.

Hershel couldn't find his voice at first, and when he did, it was little more than a strained whisper, “I think I'm okay now.” he still tightly held the nautilus fossil in his fist. He looked at it. He remembered Randall.

“Hershel, what was that?” Andrew said, softer this time, “You don't have Shell Shock, do you?”

“No, no. I don't think so.” Hershel let the small stone fall back into his pocket. Its slight weight was comforting.

“Are you sure? Maybe I should take you to the nurse just to be safe.”

“No, that won't be necessary.” Hershel shakily stood, realizing just how exhausted he was, “I'm late for class. I really should be going.”

“Well...alright.” Andrew took a step back, “Just...just remember that I spend a lot of time in Professor Delmona's classroom. If you ever need to contact me, that's how you can.”

Hershel quickly retreated back into the building, “Yes. Right. Goodbye, Andrew.”

He cringed at his use of the word, “Goodbye”. He didn't like to say it, because it implied goodbye forever. But...

Why?

***

Randall paced back and forth in the library, the sound of soft footsteps and turning pages the only sounds that could be heard. He normally liked to come here to go back over his notes after long hours in class, but he just couldn’t get Descole out of his mind. It must have been an inconsequential and very brief meeting, because otherwise Randall was sure he would have been able to figure it out by now. He also didn’t find the person themself to be very familiar, it was just the name Descole. Perhaps the two had never even met before. Maybe Randall had heard their name on the radio or something. It wouldn’t surprise him if that lunatic had ended up on the news for whatever reason.

Still. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that.

Finally giving up on trying to get anything done, he packed up his bag and left the library. He had asked to meet Hershel in the yard after both of their classes were out, so he figured he would go there early.

To his surprise, Hershel had gotten there first. The yard was large, mostly covered in grass, and fenced off from the street on the other side. Hershel looked to be reading a book under a tree, but as Randall realized as he got closer, Hershel’s eyes were glazed over. He wasn’t reading, he was just staring into the paper, not moving his eyes across the words at all. Once Randall sat down beside him, he bookmarked his page and slipped the book into his backpack.

Randall watched Hershel carefully, as he was worried something might be wrong, “Class get out early?”

Hershel shrugged, his gaze on the distant buildings of London, “No. I normally go back to the dorm after class to study, but I wasn’t feeling like doing that today.”

“Yeah?” Randall followed Hershel’s gaze, “Me too.”

Hershel was fidgeting with his tie, so Randall gently reached over to take his hand, “Hersh, are you okay?”

“No.” Hershel snatched his hand back, “Yes? I don’t know.”

“Hey, Hershel.” Randall turned Hershel’s head towards himself, “Hershel!”

Hershel held still as Randall’s eyes locked with his.

“Randall.” Hershel firmly pushed him away, “Randall, stop.”

He did, bringing his hands in against his chest, “Hershel, seriously. You’re scaring me.”

Hershel dropped his voice to a whisper, his mouth close to Randall's ear, but not close enough to seem suspicious.

_“We're being watched.”_

All the color drained from Randall’s face.

_“I overheard the dean talk about how he wants to expel us because he...well, I think you know.”_

_“He knows?”_ Randall studied Hershel's tiny black eyes, but they were carefully guarded, _“What do we do?”_

Hershel went back to fidgeting with his tie, “I don't have a suitable course of action planned yet, but another student wants to help us. If we're careful, we can keep this under wraps. I highly doubt that...”

He didn't finish, and Randall knew why. Hershel was trying to assure him that his father -- ugh, force of habit, _Mister Ascot_ \-- wouldn't find him here, but of course, if Hershel said that out loud, the dean would hear. Randall felt like countless eyes were boring into the back of his head, but he resisted the urge to turn around and look.

Cor blimey, if they couldn't even _talk_ to each other, then how were they supposed to find a resolution?

Randall thought of only one thing he could say, but how could he say it without really saying it?

Hershel's eyes were on him again, so he tried his first idea. _Very original, Randall. This will totally work._ he thought, internally rolling his eyes at himself.

Moving his lips as much as he dared, he mouthed the words, _I love you._

Hershel snorted, the briefest of smiles crossing his face.

“What?”

Hershel quirked his brow, “I loathe stew?”

Randall shoved him as they both devolved into laughter, “Shut up! You know that's not what I said!”

Hershel tried to open his mouth to speak again, but his shoulders kept shaking with quiet giggles.

“Hershel!” Randall spoke around his laughter, “Hershel, stop! You know what I said!”

 _I made him laugh!_ Randall caught Hershel as he hugged himself, leaning forward so their foreheads touched. It was a vicious cycle. Hershel thought he had recovered from his giggle fit, but Randall was still laughing, so it would make him laugh all over again. They laughed until there were tears in their eyes, until they had both fallen over, looking up at the dappled sunlight through the leaves above them. Randall gripped his sides. Hershel squeezed the knot in his tie.

Both of them ended up on their backs, their heads right next to each other. The occasional last burst of laughter subsided into harsh breaths. Their cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Randall rubbed his eyes, “Heheh. Ahh. What happened?”

Hershel closed his eyes, “Heh. I haven't the _foggiest.”_ his breath hitched as he turned towards his companion, “I know. Heheh. I know what you... _hehehehe...”_

“Don't laugh, Hersh. Don't, don't start, _haha,_ don't start this _again.”_

He paused just to breathe, and Hershel did the same.

“I don't know, I just...” Hershel took a long, steadying breath, _“Ahhh_...I just wasn't expecting that. I had really bad news for you, and we can...have to...you know, be careful about what we say? And then you tried to say something silently, and I thought you said, ‘I loathe stew’? Even though… _haha_...even though I know for certain that isn't true, and then I realized what you were really trying to say and it just...?”

“And then it made you happy, so you began laughing for that reason too?” Randall loved the feeling of grass on the back of his head, “Wow. I haven't laughed like that in a long time.”

As the evening quieted, the bustle of the city began to calm. Street lights turned on as the sun set beyond the horizon. The air cooled down, creating a soft breeze through the grass and trees.

Hershel let his arms fall into the grass, “We are not subtle.”

Randall watched as the clouds swirled around the few stars that cut through the light pollution, “Why couldn't we live in a world of only Lucilles?”

“That would be beyond a utopia, my friend.” Hershel grimaced, “Glad to see I'm not the only one who misses her.”

“Of course.” Randall shifted his head so it gently bumped against Hershel's, “How have I missed it? It feels like I was robbed of something. If everyone had your mom as their mom, the world would be a much better place.”

Randall really felt that. His own father had tried to torture him, and his mom just did whatever his dad wanted. He would be lying if he said he didn't love his mother, but he just didn't see her very often. If his dad found him out...well...

He didn't want to even consider the possibility.

“Should we be heading back?”

Randall sat up, his muscles feeling loose from all the laughter, “Yeah. I could use some sleep.”

Hershel got to his feet first, extending his hand for Randall to grab. He ignored it, standing up on his own instead.

They didn't talk the whole way back, keeping a reasonable distance from each other until they were back in their dorm room.

***


	8. Chapter 8

_Hershel rolled over in bed for the twentieth time. He was restless after getting off the painkiller he'd had in the hospital, and his bandages had only been off for a couple weeks. And besides, even if he could get to sleep, he would just have another nightmare about Randall dangling off the edge, the shock in his eyes making them appear more grey than black._

_Before he could get lost in the memory, two arms wrapped around him from behind, and a cold, tear-stained face was buried in his hair._

_Hershel sighed, turning his head to try and look at the newcomer, “Randall, go back to your bed.”_

_Randall held him tighter, “I can't. I just keep seeing you and the blood.”_

_Hershel carefully rolled over, taking Randall's cheek in his palm. He wiped away some of the tears, “Please, Randall. I know it's hard, but you need to go back to sleep.”_

_Randall shook his head, another tear escaping his eye and soaking into the pillow, “I'm too scared. I need you to be with me so I know you're alright.”_

_Hershel couldn't help but feel he was acting somewhat like a child, but the incident in Akbadain had shaken him too, so he did understand why Randall wouldn't want to be by himself all night._

_Hershel rolled onto his back, “Alright, but you get your own blanket.”_

_Randall conceded on that, quickly retreating to grab the quilt off his bed in the other room. Hershel scooted over to make room as Randall lay down and curled up to go back to sleep._

_“Goodnight, Hershel.” Randall faced away from him._

_Hershel closed his eyes, “Goodnight.”_

_Randall would be gone by the time Hershel woke up again, leaving no clue as to whether he was just up early, or if he had decided to go back to his own bed after all._

***

“I'm sorry?”

Hershel was handed a piece of paper from the dean's assistant on his way to class. She had piercing green eyes that never seemed to blink. Hershel didn't like her.

She didn't drop her stare, “You're being moved to a different room in the dormitory. Were you unaware of this?”

Hershel didn't let any panic show on his face, “Erm...no? Why am I being moved?”

“That bit's not important.” she shoved the paper into his hands, “But if you _must_ know, it's because this side of the building is full and we need to get new students in.”

It was such a weak excuse. Anyone could see that. Hershel chose not to say anything though, just wishing to get away from those cold green eyes sooner rather than later, “Um, okay.”

The assistant left, and Hershel headed on his way.

He shoved the paper rather haphazardly into his bag as he went to class. The incident with Randall had happened three times, twice soon after Hershel's release from hospital, and one more time a couple months later. It never happened again, certainly not in this school, and Randall hadn't bothered to stay all night all three times. It was something that somewhat puzzled Hershel, if he was honest with himself. Why go through the trouble of leaving your bed to go to someone else's, only to go back mere hours later?

Maybe Randall was just ashamed. Sharing a bed with someone else was kind of a big deal now that they were older, and feeling like you have to out of fear is something you usually grow out of. Hershel didn't really mind, though. He was having nightmares too, and having Randall there with him was immensely comforting.

After class, Hershel decided he would use the time afterwards to go to Professor Green to ask about becoming a professor. She only taught higher-level classes, so Hershel didn't have her as a teacher. He'd heard good things about her, though.

As he approached the door, he heard voices coming from the inside.

_“I must say, though; I'm surprised to see you back here so soon. You graduated last year, no?”_

_“Well, you know me. I like working closely with this school, as it holds a special place in my heart. I still have a project to finish in any case, so you're stuck with me a bit longer!”_

_“Oh, joy.”_

Hershel’s hand was on the doorknob, but it was opened from the inside first.

“Thank you for your assistance, Professor.” the man stood in the doorway, and his red eyes landed on Hershel. His smile fell.

Hershel stopped breathing. They were the same eyes of the boy in his memory.

It would make sense obviously that the boy was no longer a boy. He was grown up. He was older than Hershel. His hair was longer than in Hershel's memory, curled up at his jawline, and he wore a grey suit with a red tie, but those striking red eyes were unmistakable.

In that moment, Hershel realized he knew the boy's name.

There was familiarity in the man's eyes as well as he gazed at Hershel, “Um...are you...?”

Hershel took a step back as the memories overwhelmed him, _“Hershel...?”_

The man took a sharp inhale, _“You're...”_

A cold shock shot up Hershel’s chest, “I-I mean Hershel! Hershel Layton! That's my name! Am I in your way? Sorry! I just had a question for Professor Green! See you later! Bye!”

The man relaxed somewhat as Hershel passed him, “Yes, of course. No harm done. I was just on my way out. Good day.”

The door was closed and Hershel slumped as he sighed in relief.

“Uh, Professor?” Hershel walked towards her desk, “Who was that?”

Professor Green had blonde hair and yellow eyes despite her name, “That was my old student Desmond Sycamore. He still works closely with the school sometimes, hence why he was here today.”

Desmond Sycamore. That name wasn't familiar to Hershel in the slightest, but if the boy calling him “Theodore” in his memory was any indication, that wasn't his original name.

Hershel never thought that his own name would put such a sour taste in his mouth, but he couldn't help but feel like he had stolen it from the boy.

“Anyway, Mister Layton.” Professor Green looked up at him through half-circle glasses, “You had a question for me?”

***


	9. Chapter 9

Randall couldn't believe how much time had passed since first coming to this school. The first semester was already almost over, and he was still no closer to figuring out who Descole was. In the meantime, he had been hard at work in class, keeping his notes more organized than he ever had in secondary school just to make sure he had the information straight in his head.

The clang of metal on metal reverberated through the yard as two boys swung swords at each other, decked out in fencing gear and attracting a small crowd. Randall missed the feeling of dodging and swinging, the wind behind his ears, but also knowing that nobody could really get hurt in a controlled setting. Hershel lunged at him, and he parried, quickly lending a jab which was narrowly dodged.

“You're rusty, old friend!” Randall grunted as he went in for a stab, “Who did you practice with, the fence?”

“Very funny, Randall.” Hershel took a quick step back, “I don't recall you having much more practice than me!”

“That's just how good I am!” Randall punctuated his point with another rough stab, and Hershel only barely managed to parry it.

“Ugh!” Hershel almost slipped on the wet grass, “I'm not losing again!”

“We'll see about that!”

It was sort of a tradition between them that whoever won their games would get to pick the next date. It was easy to tell who picked certain dates, because if Hershel won, they would spend their day inside reading books or playing chess. If Randall won, their day consisted of exploring around outside, collecting neat rocks or climbing trees. All of them consisted of copious amounts of puzzle solving though, and all of them were fun regardless.

They had fallen out of that habit for fear of being caught by Mr. Ascot, so now was a good time to bring it back.

 _Almost..._ Randall spun his sword, “Hyah!”

Hershel stumbled back when the sword touched his chest, “Ah, rats.”

“Ha! The forest it is, then!” Randall pulled his mask off, the fresh air cold on his sweaty face, “Best two out of three?”

Hershel rolled his eyes as he removed his own mask, “I think I'll pass. You win this round.”

They set their swords aside to drink from their respective water bottles. The crowd dispersed now that they were done, but Clark and Claire approached them as they sat on the bench near the sidewalk.

Clark spoke first, “You two can fence?”

“Yeah! We used to fence all the time back in secondary school!” Randall said proudly, placing his water bottle on his temple to cool it, “We like to plan our hangouts based on who wins.”

“Interesting...” Claire tapped her chin, “I should do that with Dimitri. _Then again, he loses a lot, doesn't he...?”_

“Alright, Randall.” Hershel scratched his head. Maybe a haircut was in order, “Where were you thinking?”

Randall flipped his water bottle in the air to catch it again, “I was thinking a road trip across the British countryside.”

“But we don't have a car.”

“I know, but we can always borrow one. Or rent one.” Randall stood up, “Let's go back to our dormitory, and we can get the...”

He trailed off when he saw something in the distance. It looked like a fluttering cape.

Randall set his water bottle on the bench, “Sorry, I'll be right back.”

“Randall?”

Hershel reached for him, but Randall was already running away. He would never find answers if he kept going on like this, so he ran off campus to follow the cloaked figure down the street.

“Stay away from my school, you monsters!”

“Animals like you don't deserve to live!”

Randall jumped behind a dumpster to let his heart slow down. The first voice was Descole's, but the second was once a bodyguard for Mr. Ascot. It would be _very bad_ if he accidently saw someone who was supposed to be dead.

“You're one to talk, you snout-mouthed cretin! I'm not the one killing people for having a partner!”

 _Is he talking about...?_ Randall peeked out from his hiding spot just as Descole's shoes hit the pavement.

“What's the matter, wretch? You out of insults?”

A gunshot rang out in the square, and nearby pedestrians began to scream. Randall was blinded by a cloth suddenly thrown over him, and he was roughly thrown off his feet.

“What were you thinking!?” Randall heard Descole scold him as he was set upright on the street, “You could have been hurt, you moron!”

Randall gathered himself, grabbing the first fistful of fabric he could get his hands on, which happened to be Descole's cape, “Wait! Who are you?”

“Now is not the time!” Descole gathered him in their arms again, “Fine. If you wish to make things difficult, then so be it!”

“Let me go!” Randall tried to pry the arm off his torso, so Descole threw him over their shoulder instead and the wind was knocked out of him.

“Hold still!” Descole jumped over the fence on campus, bringing him up to the roof of the closest building, “You'll fall to your death if you keep that up!”

“Who _are you!?”_ Randall stubbornly pounded his fists into Descole's back, “Why were you fighting that guy!? Where have I heard your name before!?”

“I said shut up!”

“No you didn't!”

 _“Well shut up!”_ Descole dumped him into the concrete, “God, you are _insufferable!”_

“Tell me who you are!” Randall quickly got to his feet, fixing his glasses on his face, “What was that with Mister Ascot's old bodyguard!? Is he trying to kill you because you loved a man!?”

Descole froze as they were about to jump off the roof. The wind still made their cape flutter around them in a spectacular display that framed their silhouette in the sunlight.

“Ah...” Descole stood up straight, their hands clasped behind their back, “You are familiar, then...”

Their tone of voice completely changed. It made Randall a tad uneasy, “Descole...?"

“I fight people often, you know. People from Targent. People from the government.” Descole put their foot behind the other, spinning around in one fluid motion like a dancer, “People who seek out individuals like you and I. People who stray from the norm. It’s all very complicated, as you can imagine, but the last thing I want is for innocent bystanders to get caught in the crossfire.”

Randall swallowed. He tried to see Descole's eyes behind the mask, but the eyes of the mask were covered in mesh, too thick to see through.

“You want to know who I am?” some of the sarcasm came back into their voice, “My name is Jean Descole. Aside from that, it's better you know nothing.”

“But I really feel like I've heard your name somewhere before!” Randall hit the sides of his head with his knuckles, “I feel like it's important! Please, tell me, have we met before?”

It was easy to hide your expression when you wore a mask. Still, Descole's mouth was visible, and it was pulled into a soft frown.

Finally, they turned away, “No. Just forget about it, and _stop being an idiot!”_

“Wait!” Randall ran to the edge, but Descole had already disappeared.

“Randall!”

Randall jumped to his feet as Hershel came up from behind him, “Hersh.”

Hershel gazed off into the city, “Who _was_ that?”

“I don't know.” Randall was happy at least that he'd managed to get Descole to crack, but he was still far from a conclusive answer, “I’ve only seen him one other time.”

Hershel eyed him carefully, “You don't even know his name?”

“Well, he calls himself Descole, but I really think there's more to it than that...”

“Well...” Hershel stood by Randall's side, looking over the edge of the rooftop, “Whoever they are, they certainly have a flair for the dramatic.”

Randall couldn't agree more. What intrigued him so much about this Descole character?

***


	10. Chapter 10

Hershel sat in the library, his hands wringing together on the table top. Desmond was in here a lot whenever he happened to be on campus, but Hershel never had the courage to approach him. He had no reason to, he told himself. Desmond was an important part of his life in the past, but just looking at him now kept causing a painful resurgence of old traumatic memories. Desmond had moved on. He had his own life now, and so did Hershel. He didn't need to feel guilty about avoiding him.

However...up until this point, Hershel was partially convinced that all of those memories were just weird nightmares or old hallucinations or something. He always knew he was adopted, it had just never mattered to him, but there was no reason to believe that his early childhood was anything but ordinary. His birth parents had died peacefully, he was picked up by the Laytons, and his name was definitely never stolen from an estranged brother. It was a weak hope, but it was there nonetheless.

But ever since Desmond had shown up, those hopes had been shattered. Everything he saw in his head as a result of his scars, or the fear of going to asylum, was something that had actually happened to him. Everything he thought he knew about himself was suddenly thrown into question, and it terrified him.

Ultimately, by talking to Desmond, he hoped to get some kind of closure. Desmond was older than him, so he was more likely to remember their birth parents and what happened to them. He didn't want to remember all the bad things, but this uncertainty wasn't much better.

 _It doesn't matter._ Hershel scolded himself, _You have a future as a professor. You have a future with Randall. Does it really matter so much how you got to your current family?_

He really didn't feel he should unearth something that ought to have stayed buried. And yet...

Hershel dropped his head onto the desk. _If I don't talk to him now, I might miss my chance to._

Seconds ticked into minutes. The library slowly cleared as the light from the windows stretched across the floor. The sky turned red outside, the same color as the back of Hershel's tired eyelids. He yawned, berating himself for wasting so much time thinking about Sycamore.

Thinking about… _Hershel..._

Desmond came from around the corner, putting one last book on the shelf before leaving. The door gently closed behind him. Oh well. Next time.

“Heerrrrshel.” Randall lay on the table on his stomach in front of him, “You know what today is, right?”

Hershel was startled when Randall's face suddenly filled his vision, “Um...uh...”

“It's the day of our _road trip.”_ Randall rolled across the table until he landed on the floor, _“I'm so excited.”_

The thump when he landed got him an eye roll from the librarian. Hershel picked up his backpack, which hadn't even been opened the whole time he was there, “How about we talk outside?”

“Novel idea, Hersh.” Randall stood up, getting to the door first so he could open it for his friend, “After you.”

“Oh, what a gentleman.” Hershel gave a mock bow as he left, “So, whose car are we borrowing?”

“Easy! Clark's!” Randall led the way outside, “He needs it normally, but he agreed to let us borrow it for two days!”

The cold air outside sent a shiver down Hershel's back, “We'll be gone all weekend?”

“Yeah! It's not a proper road trip if it doesn't last!” Randall spun the key ring on his finger, “Don't worry. We'll be home in time for tea.”

 _“Pfft!”_ Hershel shoved him, “I don't love tea _that_ much.”

“Hahaha! Anyway, let's, uh...”

He stopped mid-skip, the keys going back into his pocket.

“Oh yeah.” he waved, “Sorry, I forgot. See you near the entrance?”

Hershel nodded, “Sure.”

He and Randall had been moved to complete opposite ends of the entire building, as if staff were worried the two of them rubbed the _“disease”_ off on each other. It was totally unnecessary, and only highlighted the injustice of it.

Hershel opened the door of his room and flicked the lightswitch on. He had hardly unpacked at all since coming to the school, so it was only a matter of grabbing some things off the floor and zipping up his suitcase. He certainly knew how to pack light, especially when compared to Randall.

Luckily, once Hershel was outside, he only had to wait a few more minutes before Randall appeared with his moderately-sized suitcase, “Perfect. Let's go.”

Randall unlocked the trunk of a dark blue car with the key, stashing his suitcase into it with characteristic grace.

Hershel let Randall take his suitcase as well, “Randall, do you even have a license?”

“Don't ask me that, Hershel.” Randall closed the trunk, procuring a small plastic rectangle from his pocket, “This was a nightmare to get.”

The picture on the front was fitting for him. A simple black-and-white photo of Randall smiling at the camera from a front angle. He wasn't wearing his glasses in it, but the poor quality still made his eyes look dull compared to how they looked in real life.

 _Is it normal to notice these kinds of things?_ Hershel looked up at Randall in real life, where the tears over Randall's eyes made them catch the lights from all around them.

“You okay there?”

“What?” Hershel followed the movement of Randall putting his license in his breast pocket, “I'm fine. Just distracted.”

Randall chuckled, “Alright, get in the passenger's seat! We're going on an adventure!”

It was clear that Randall had been waiting to say that. He was already in his seat before Hershel had even touched the passenger's-side door. Once Hershel had his door closed and his seat belt on, Randall turned the key in the ignition.

“Here we go!” Randall adjusted the mirrors, “You ready?”

Hershel gripped the leather arm rests, “Just don't get us killed.”

“Aw, come on Hersh.” Randall stuck his bottom lip out, “Have a _little_ faith in me.”

He pushed the lever from parking to reverse, looking behind the seats to pull out of the parking lot. He did a decent job. Nothing was hit.

“Okay.” Randall beamed at the road ahead, “Here we go.”

***

There were a few scuffs along the way, but Randall was careful when he was driving. Hershel only wished that he had bothered to get a license too, as nobody could take over for Randall if he got tired. Hershel put it on his mental agenda, which was already fairly full.

Finally, Randall decided he couldn't keep his eyes open, so the two decided to go to sleep.

That was how Hershel had woken up that morning. His first instinct was to panic because he had school work, but one look at the ceiling of the car, and he remembered the reason he was out here in the first place; To be away from school.

Hershel had leaned his seat back to sleep, but Randall had opted for the back seats instead. He was on his stomach, one leg on the floor of the car while the other was up by the window. His glasses had fallen on the floor, his hair sticking up at odd angles.

Hershel opened the car door so he could stand up and stretch. They were pulled to the side of the road, just outside the border of London. The air outside was freezing cold, and it did well to wake him up.

“Ugh.” Randall pushed himself up, “Hersh?”

Hershel got back into his seat, cranking the backrest up so it was back to normal, “Good morning.”

“Heheh.” Randall rubbed the fingerprints off his glasses with his shirt, “It's nice to wake up next to you, Hersh.”

Hershel smiled warmly, “Likewise. I hope you didn't throw out your back sleeping like that.”

Randall stepped out of the car and stretched his arms high into the air, giving a wide yawn, “Nope, I think I'm mostly in one piece. Got any puzzles for me?”

Hershel blinked as Randall got into the front seat, “What?”

“I can't drive if I'm still sleepy.” Randall closed the door, “Go on. Everything reminds you of a puzzle, right?”

Hershel closed his own door, “Not _everything.”_

“Well, a lot of things remind you of puzzles.” Randall put the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life, “Come on. We'll drive around for a bit, and if you think of a puzzle, I'll pull over.”

Hershel was sluggish so early in the morning, but Randall was going slow enough, and there wasn't another car in sight as they went. They passed a lamppost shining in the little light that penetrated through the foggy London clouds. Hershel perked up, a puzzle forming in his head.

“Randall, I thought of a puzzle!”

“See? It's so easy for you!” Randall parked on the side of the road, “Alright, Hersh. Lay it on me.”

Hershel looked towards the horizon, refreshed at the thought of a puzzle, “Alright. A lamppost has a shadow that's fifty feet in length...”

***


	11. Chapter 11

Chip bags and candy wrappers began to litter the floor of the car. Hershel was restless, tapping his knee to try and keep himself occupied. Randall seemed to be doing better because he had to focus on the road, but the long hours were clearly getting to him too.

Hershel sat up when he realized his back hurt from slouching, “Randall?”

Randall turned the wheel slightly to get around a curve, “Yeah?”

Hershel rubbed his eyes, “Where exactly are we going?”

Randall straightened the wheel, easing his foot on the gas pedal, “It's a surprise.”

 _Of course it is._ “Well, then, can you tell me how close we are?”

“Sure, it's uhhh...” Randall looked up at the next road sign, “Fifteen minutes?”

Hershel looked at their map to determine what was fifteen minutes ahead of them, but it was all just empty desert.

Finally, after what felt like another hour, Randall pulled onto a shorter dirt road, slowing down and carefully taking each turn, “Perfect. It's better than I expected.”

Hershel gazed out the windshield, but all he could see were random cars parked in a dirt lot, “Randall, may I ask where you've taken me?”

“You're acting like I kidnapped you.” Randall stopped pretty far away from the other cars, partially parking over a bunch of weeds, “Okay, get out.”

It was a relief for Hershel to finally get his seat belt off as he stepped outside and stretched his legs. He surveyed his surroundings to try and gauge what was so special about this particular area of land, but it was just some random land in the middle of nowhere.

He saw Randall lock each door of the car as he came around to his side, “Randall...”

“I promise, I'll answer all your questions in a second.” Randall pocketed the keys, “Okay, let's go.”

Hershel sighed, quick to catch up with his friend as he ran away. They had to walk down a dusty hill to get to what looked like some kind of settlement. People were searching through the dirt with shovels and small brushes, seemingly looking for something.

It wasn't until Randall had found his hiding place beyond the red tape when Hershel finally realized where they were, “Oh, of course.”

“Haha!” Randall waved him over, “Have you figured it out?”

“Yes, but...” Hershel ducked beside him, “Why a dig site?”

“You'll seee...” Randall gave him a teasing smile, “Trust me. This is no ordinary dig site.”

Hershel watched the scene unfold. A new car joined the lot on the hill, and a very annoyed archeologist got out of it. One of the men in the ditch got out to greet him.

“You must be joking, Bronev.” the newcomer said, “I was in the middle of something when I got your phone call.”

Hershel started, his mouth open. The newcomer was Desmond Sycamore.

“You recognize him of course, don't you?”

Hershel turned back to his companion, who was gazing in admiration at the archeologist.

“He was the youngest archeologist in history! He discovered this dig site when he was only fifteen! Isn't that amazing!?”

Hershel was dizzy. He had no idea that Sycamore was so influential. It further shattered the illusion that their past together was peaceful. This wasn't a simple case of a passionate scholar; Desmond was looking for something. Not just fame or notoriety. Something violent ended their parents’ lives, and Desmond...

“Hershel, are you okay?”

Randall’s voice shocked Hershel back into the present, “Yes, fine. I'm fine. Sorry.”

Randall didn't seem convinced, but just then, Desmond and the man called “Bronev” came close to their hiding spot, so Randall pushed Hershel's head down until his hair was out of view. They were hiding behind an upturned picnic table though, so they could just see between the dusty wooden slabs.

“This will be paramount in tracking down the Azran Legacy.” Bronev was saying, “I would rather you be here than anyone else, Mister Sycamore.”

“I can't be here every second of every day!” Desmond massaged his forehead, “Ugh...fine. I’m here. Show me what you're talking about.”

Bronev knelt in the dirt, picking up what appeared to be a piece of broken pottery, “Now then, what does this look like to you?”

“It looks like a piece of rubbish.” Desmond hardly even spared the ceramic a glance, “Was this really worth a two hour drive from Gressenheller?”

“Oh, Desmond...”

A shiver seemed to pass through Desmond's frame at Bronev's use of his first name, though it was hardly noticeable. Maybe Hershel only saw it because he recognized the subtle way Desmond’s eyelids lifted over his irises, or the way his tapping fingers on his arm stilled.

“You truly don't understand, do you?” Bronev handed the piece of ceramics to Desmond, “You found this place seven years ago, and you've missed something so obvious?”

Desmond opened his mouth to reply, but then he shut it again, looking down at the shard of pottery.

“Look closely at it.” Bronev combed a hand through his heavy beard, “What do you notice?”

Desmond ran his thumb over the lines and grooves in the pottery, knitting his eyebrows together behind his red-rimmed glasses.

Finally, he reached a conclusion, pressing into the grooves at a certain pressure point. The lines began to glow a steady bright blue color.

“I don't believe it!” Desmond looked around the rest of the dig site, where bits of the ground had begun to glow.

“This entire site is atop a huge slab of solid concrete.” Bronev chuckled to himself, “Now...why would that be?”

Desmond’s hand holding the ceramic began to shake. His pupils shrunk, bringing out the red hue of his irises even more. Hershel was chilled looking into those eyes. They were still familiar, but somehow, in a much more dangerous way.

Desmond threw the pottery at the ground, but it didn't even chip.

“This...” his tone of voice had completely changed, “This was worth my time, eh? Bronev, do I have to remind you _again_ that being an imbecile is not a replacement for a dead family?”

Randall was completely silent and frozen. His hands were over his mouth. The silence that stretched between Bronev and Desmond was stifling.

 _“Randall.”_ Hershel barely dared to whisper, _“Maybe we should leave.”_

 _“Wait, wait.”_ Randall was on edge, but he was also immensely curious, _“Just wait. We'll go soon.”_

Bronev sighed, “Mister Sycamore, surely you recognize the significance of this discovery?”

Desmond seemed to be in an internal conflict with himself, pushing the glasses up his nose as he took long and deep shaking breaths. One thing was clear; Desmond really didn't like Bronev. Was it related to their cruel past? Hershel held his breath.

Finally, Desmond's eyes were clear and focused once again, “I never would have thought it possible. You'll have to forgive me for my brief lapse.”

“Of course. Now then.” Bronev gestured towards all the gathered bits of pottery that still shone with a steady light, “This light should prove very useful to us. Would you like to do the honors?”

Desmond took each piece, connecting them together until they formed one solid slab. The cuts in the pottery looked to be random, but the Azran knew how to hide a puzzle in plain sight. The glowing lines and the cracks spelled something out, which they would need manuscripts to translate.

“I recognize this symbol...” Desmond traced a glowing line with his finger, “This refers to the ancient city of Akbadain...”

Randall leaned closer, one hand on the ground while the other brushed the table that hid them from view.

“Ah, so it does.” Bronev pursed his lips, “Pity it hasn't been found yet.”

“Actually, there's a student at Gressenheller who claims to have found it.” Desmond stood up, brushing his pants off, “He found a coin while he was there, and experts were able to confirm its authenticity.”

“Well now! What luck!” Bronev turned his head so Hershel could see he was wearing sunglasses, “Let's pay this student a visit!”

Desmond nodded, but then he frowned, “I'll go see if he's on campus. I'm sure we can schedule a meeting.”

Randall grinned from ear to ear, _“Okay, we can go now.”_

They waited until the archeologists had moved on before quickly returning to Clark's borrowed car. Randall pulled out of the lot, and the others were none the wiser.

He didn't stop until they had made it back to a public road, then he pulled over once more, “Can you _believe_ it, Hershel!? I've gained the respect of one of the greatest archeologists in history!”

“Randall, was that even legal?”

“Probably not, but can you imagine!?” Randall gripped his own face in his hands, “I can't believe it! I knew it would be a crazy trip, but I wasn't expecting anything like that! Oh, but we have one last stop to make before the day ends! I hope you're ready for this, Hersh!”

Hershel sank in his seat, laughing despite the close call, “Tell me it's a little less exciting than that, at least.”

“Oh, trust me! It'll be perfect!”

It didn't much put Hershel at ease, but he tried to relax regardless, “Fine, fine. Let's see what you've got.”

***

Hershel had his eyes closed, both arms over his stomach as he lay in the passenger seat. Randall had counted up a bunch of bills in his wallet before he left the car to head into the convenience store. “Wait here!” he had said. So, Hershel waited. He thought maybe he was close to falling asleep when he heard the click of the door unlocking.

He had just opened one eye when Randall put a cake in his lap and a confetti popper was cracked over his head.

Randall touched his nose to Hershel's as he stared at him in shock, “Surprise!”

Hershel went back through his mental calendar, “I'm sorry?”

 _“Come on,_ Hersh!” Randall twirled around the car to the driver's seat, “We were just at your parent's house for Christmas! You don't know what day it is today?”

Hershel counted back through each day in his head, matching dates and numbers until they all blurred together. Randall had lifted one eyebrow by the time Hershel realized why this day was significant.

“Oh...” Hershel looked at the cake in his lap, “Today is...!”

“It's your birthday!” Randall hugged him close, “You've only got one teenage year left! I'll get to join you in about two weeks!”

“Oh no!” Hershel smiled when the shock wore off, “Now I won't get to surprise you! How could time have slipped by so quickly?”

“It's alright, Hersh.” Randall nuzzled into his cheek, “Sorry I couldn't get candles this year. I didn't want to risk setting Clark's car on fire.”

He could understand that. Last time Randall had lit candles, he somehow set fire to the whole tablecloth at home. Lucille forgave him for it of course, but he was mortified. Some people just shouldn't be in charge of fire, it seems.

If it was his birthday, that meant it was February 15th, “Am I nineteen already?”

“Yes, Hershel!” Randall kissed his cheek, “It's incredible how you managed to forget!”

“Heh.” Hershel finally saw the words written on the cake in blue icing; _Happy Birthday, Hershel,_ “You didn't have to do this for me. Thank you.”

“You're welcome!” Randall pat Hershel's shoulder before leaning away, “I also got this tub of ice cream. Half strawberry, half chocolate!”

Hershel used a plastic butter knife to cut the cake, getting a generous slice for himself and then getting one for Randall. He hardly got through half of it though, and only got through a few tablespoons of ice cream.

The two of them settled in the back seats, watching as the sun slowly began to dip below the horizon. It cast a gorgeous array of colors across the sky. The parking lot was only lit until the store closed, and then it was too dark to see much of anything.

“Oh, wait a minute.” Randall got up in the dark to climb into the front seat, wrestling with something on the top seam of the windshield.

“Randall? What are you-!?”

The roof disconnected from the windshield, and Randall peeled it back until the whole shape rested on the trunk, behind the back windows.

Randall gave the car a slap, “This is a convertible, Hersh.”

Hershel stared up at the sky in absolute awe. He was used to seeing maybe three or four stars in London, but without the light pollution all the way out in the countryside, the stars dusted the sky like glitter. The whole galaxy was visible. It was absolutely breathtaking.

Randall put an arm around him as he sat back down, “Isn't it beautiful? I've been in London for so long that I forgot what it looked like.”

The stars weren't even this brilliant in Stansbury. It was still a town, however small. There were some lights that blotted out the dimmest stars, but out here, the two boys could see almost all of them. It was like magic. Sitting in a car with the sky exploding in all directions, like they were in a rocket ship that had flown up into the stars.

Hershel took a slow breath, tasting the frost that hung in the cold air, “Was this your idea?”

Randall took off his glasses, as the lights kept creating glare on the lense, “No. This was just a happy accident.”

Hershel felt a warmth pounding on his ribcage. He could see his breath fog up in the air, and yet he wasn't cold snuggled up so close to Randall.

He turned closer towards the redhead, brushing a fluffy lock of hair from his face, “Randall, what if you were one of those stars?”

Randall’s breath shook as he continued to smile. His cheeks and nose were red, “I don't know. Do you mean literally? In that case, I would simply burn and shine for billions of years until I finally burned out and became either a white dwarf or a black hole, depending on the size of the star. Otherwise?”

Randall held Hershel closer to himself, his hand in his hair.

“If you mean metaphorically, then...I think I would keep going. I would fly as far as the edge of the universe. I would be the kind of mark in the sky that people would make wishes on. I...haha. I think that's the sappiest thing I've ever said.”

Hershel was close enough now that the bridges of their noses had intersected, “So...same thing you've always wanted. You want people to remember you.”

“Yes. Precisely.” Randall took Hershel's free hand, “I want people to look back at me as someone who changed the course of history. I want people to smile when they remember me. I want the whole world to be able to see how hard I worked to get what I wanted. I just...the thought of simply fizzling away without changing anything...it's scary, even though I won't be here to see it.”

Hershel held Randall's cheek. By now, they had turned in their seats to fully face each other.

“I don't think you have to worry about that.” Hershel laced their fingers together, “You are quite unforgettable. I'll be telling stories to my grandchildren for years.”

Randall jumped at his chance to say something cheesy, “I hope they'll be _my_ grandchildren, too.”

That hit Hershel harder than he would have expected. His heart panged, a shiver shaking his shoulders. He hadn't even considered the idea of marrying Randall and raising a family with him. Hershel already liked the idea of adopting children who needed loving homes, as his parents had done so for him, but he always considered the idea within the context of having a wife. Now that the idea was in the forefront of his mind, he realized that in this moment at least, he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted this.

Randall was part of his family.

Without a second thought, Hershel kissed Randall's lips, silencing any other cheesy remarks he may have had.

 _“Mmm...”_ Randall broke the kiss just enough to breathe, “Are we getting better at that?”

“I don't know. You were my first kiss, you tell me.”

They stared at each other. Then they began to laugh. Their laughs echoed into the night, lost to anyone who could have been around to hear.

“God, I'm such an idiot.” Randall leaned his side into the backrest of the seat, “What are we doing here, Hersh? We're in the middle of nowhere under the stars acting like children.”

He suddenly yawned, snuggling into Hershel's shoulder.

“This can happen again, right?” he kept talking, though he was quickly falling asleep, “Please, Hersh. Tell me there will be more days like this. Tell me we'll even have a chance of having grandchildren.”

Hershel wrapped both his arms securely around Randall as he slowly drifted off.

Randall was already asleep by the time Hershel replied, though he knew his thought was impossible...

_“I always thought that ‘Randall Layton’ had such a nice ring...”_

***


	12. Chapter 12

The sunlight that pierced through the clouds that morning washed the countryside with a hazy golden hue. Hershel was still holding Randall close when he opened his eyes. It was the calmest he'd felt in a long time. He got the impression that if he moved even slightly, he and Randall would both fall over. They were truly leaning against each other.

He only had to look down at Randall's face to see that his eyes were open, “Randall?”

“Oh, you're awake.” Randall sat up, his back cracking, “Ugh! This was a bad idea, Hersh...”

Hershel massaged away a kink in his neck, “Ah. I was hoping we could stay like that a little longer.”

“We can't do that, I'm afraid.” Randall rolled his shoulder, “I mean...if you really miss holding me, I wouldn't complain if you, uhhh...” he sidled up closer to his friend, “Did that again...”

Hershel blushed, “Yeesh. You don't need to be so heavy-handed.”

“Heh. Sorry. I guess I just love seeing you so flustered.” he thought he saw something over the back of the car, “Huh? Hersh, what's...?”

Hershel looked in the direction Randall was watching. Suddenly, Randall's face completely paled. Hershel was afraid he would vomit.

“Hersh, GET DOWN!”

A gunshot rang out through the lot. Both boys threw themselves on the floor of the car, their ears ringing and tears blurring their vision.

_“Oh no. We're going to die. We're going to die, Hersh. We're going to die out in the middle of nowhere because the nearest hospital is three hours away oh god why did this-!”_

“Randall, hush!”

Randall clamped his mouth shut. Footsteps were rapidly approaching the car. The sun was blocked for a moment, and then someone was in the driver's seat.

“Ack!” Randall covered his head, _“Hey!”_

The key was turned in the ignition, and the car lurched forward.

Hershel’s back hit the seats, his stomach giving him a stabbing pain in response.

Once the car had evened to a respectable constant speed, the boys sat up to see who their kidnapper was.

 _“Ugh!_ How fast does this thing go!? Twenty kilos!?”

“Descole!” Randall grabbed the back of his seat, “Get out! This is a borrowed car!”

“Do you want to live or not!?” Descole roughly tugged the wheel, making the boys in the back fly in one direction, “Get your seat belts on!”

Another gunshot was heard, so Randall and Hershel hurried to comply. Hershel took the seat behind the front passenger seat while Randall took the middle so they could be right next to each other.

Once Descole had determined that both boys were strapped in, they swerved off the road into the desert. The car's tires had a hard time gripping on the loose dust, but it soon gave way to rough rock instead.

“We need to return this car later! It isn't ours!” Randall was panicking at suddenly seeing the masked gentleman again, but he tried to mask his own fear with anger, “Where are you taking us!?”

“Do you have an off switch on your jabber!? If so, I'd advise you to use it!”

“Does your mask have an off switch!? If so, I would love to see!”

“You are an imbecile!”

“You're a coward!”

“I told you to shut up!”

“And I told you to tell me who you are!”

They didn't notice Hershel furiously struggling with the window crank as Descole's driving became ever more erratic.

“You hide behind a mask because you're insecure!” Randall spat at them, “I bet you're more ugly than a donkey!”

“You're on my last nerve, you twat! One more word out of you and I'll cut your throat open and-!”

Hershel leaned out the window, throwing up all over the side of the car and onto the rocky plains. Randall instantly forgot about Descole, instead holding Hershel's shoulders as he retched.

More tears stung Randall's eyes, his throat burning with shame, “O-okay, Descole. You win. I won't say another word.”

“No, I...” their voice got softer, and in another moment, their driving evened out, “Forget it. You're not worth threatening anyway.”

They didn't even sound convinced of their own words. Randall didn't dwell on it, insead helping Hershel back up into his seat, his breaths coming harsh and forced.

“Are you okay?”

Hershel put a hand over his sternum, “Ow.”

“Yikes. I can't imagine cake and ice cream is the most comfortable thing to throw up...” Randall wrapped an arm around his back, “I'm so sorry, Hersh. I completely forgot about you. I was just so...”

Hershel filled in the silence, “I know. I accept your apology.”

“Thank you. You shouldn't.”

“But I do.” after saying that, Hershel realized that Descole had just mumbled something under his breath.

 _“Cake and ice cream...? Then that would mean...”_ they perked a bit in their seat, _“Oh, it was the fifteenth, was it not...?”_

He couldn't believe he had caught that. Descole had said it so quietly that it could have been mistaken for the passing wind or the rumble of the engine, but once Hershel had heard it, he couldn't un-hear it.

Descole knew his birthday. But what did that mean?

***

Descole finally stopped at a cave with an overhang of crystals. After ensuring that Clark's car was properly hidden, they dragged the two unwilling runaways into the cave until the only light came from the multiple reflective crystals. It was even colder down here, so Hershel and Randall were huddled close to each other to ensure they didn't freeze to death.

“What's taking you so long!?” Descole grabbed Randall's sleeve, “How much do you value your life, rat!?”

“Let go!” Randall was going insane at the constant sound of Hershel's chattering teeth, “We shouldn't even be here right now! For all intents and purposes, you've kidnapped us!”

“Do I need to carry you two!? God, it's like I’m babysitting _children!”_

“Shut up! At least I've never stolen a car and forced its inhabitants to follow suit! I don't even know where we are!”

“All you need to know is that you were at the site of a very unfortunate little experiment, and if I hadn't taken you back, you would have-!”

 _“Stop.”_ Hershel begged as he rubbed his hands together, _“Just stop, please stop. I can't take this constant fighting.”_

Randall and Descole both fell painfully silent. Randall instantly felt guilty again, taking Hershel's hands to warm them up.

“Erm...” Descole cleared their throat, “Anyway. It's not much farther. We're going to stay until the pursuers move on, then I'm taking you back to the school.”

They finally stopped in the corner of a large room that was filled to the brim with more crystals. Descole settled on a rock further towards the center while Hershel and Randall sat next to each other along the wall. They didn't speak for awhile, but somehow, this silence felt different than their ordinary silences. It was far more tense. Far more awkward.

They knew why, too. They were both lost in thought. Descole had brought Randall's mind back to his own recent musings, and Desmond had made Hershel think about what he was doing at the dig site and what his “brief lapse” was. As they thought, they didn't realize just how close their thoughts related to the other's.

Descole knew Hershel's birthday. There was a moment where Desmond had broken and turned sour, and there was a moment where Descole's voice had softened. This never would have occurred to him if he was thinking of these things as completely separate events, but what was Descole doing in the middle of the desert anyway? Randall had managed to see him twice on campus, but the day Desmond is out at a dig site, Descole shows up too.

 _It could be a coincidence._ Hershel told himself, _It really could be._

At yet, it just seemed too convenient.

“I know who Descole is now.”

Hershel felt the blood drain from his face. Randall wasn't looking at him as he talked. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed.

“I always thought he seemed familiar somehow, but now I know...” he said slowly, deliberately.

Mr. Ascot had been threatened. He was given vast sums of money to keep him quiet on Descole's illegal activities. Randall didn't know much about it, he was only fifteen when it happened, but he did remember feeling terrified that his family was in danger somehow.

“I didn't tell you because I was scared of you getting involved.” Randall turned away from Hershel, crossing his arms and resting his head on one of the smoother crystals, “Don't trust Descole, Hersh. He's a bad apple.”

Hershel feared he would have vomited if he hadn't already. Randall didn't have all the information he had. Hershel had come to a very different conclusion just now, while Randall had said the last thing that he had ever wanted to hear.

Descole was bad, but Descole was Desmond Sycamore.

Descole was Hershel's biological brother.

 _I should tell him._ Hershel ran his palms across his temples, _He deserves to know. He shouldn't be idolizing someone who caused him so much pain. Desmond isn't just an archeologist. He's not a prodigy._

Hershel reached his hand out to touch Randall's shoulder.

_Tell him. He deserves to know._

Hershel’s arm froze just above the fabric of Randall's jacket collar.

Hershel's hand was shaking as he retracted it, _No, I can't. Not like this. I just...I can't._

Somehow, this just...it didn't feel like the right time. It made him feel guilty, but he was already terrified.

He suddenly sneezed into his sleeve.

“Oh, are you still cold?” Randall took his jacket off, “Here, take this.”

“No Randall, you don't need to...”

“I insist.” Randall put the jacket on him, “Oh, now I wish I'd brought gloves.”

“Randall...” the jacket was warm. Hershel was already melting into it.

“Give me your hands.” Randall took them anyway, rubbing them together to warm them, “Heh. It's like Akbadain all over again, eh Hersh?”

Hershel shuttered, “Please don't remind me of Akbadain.”

Randall frowned as he looked away, _“Sorry...”_

Descole looked at a pocket watch as he gracefully stood, “That should be long enough. Follow me, you two.”

Randall helped Hershel stand up, “Descole, just what are you doing out here?”

“That is none of your concern.” Descole tried to walk faster to force the boys to speed up so they wouldn't be left behind, “I'm taking you both back to the university, and then I can continue with my mission.”

Randall had something in his eyes. Something sharp. Something that reminded Hershel of the defiance he himself had shown when facing Mr. Ascot. Randall's eyes were usually cool, but now they were on fire.

Descole paused beside the car, “Get in.”

Faster than anyone could react, Randall snatched the mask off Descole's face.

“No!” they hid their face, but it was too late, “You slimy pig! Give that back!”

Randall dropped it on the ground. There was no more room for doubt.

“Desmond Sycamore...?”

Desmond lowered his hands, tearing off the rest of his disguise as it was no longer needed. His eyes were more intense when the mask had been ripped off, but now they were back to their softer hue. What they thought was grey hair on Descole was actually just a wig attached to the hat.

Hershel’s stomach was empty, but he still felt something burning in his throat.

Desmond opened his mouth, desperately hoping to sound sincere, “Don't tell anyone.”

“WHY SHOULDN'T I!?” Randall exploded, “Why shouldn't I tell everyone what you've been doing!? You threaten people's lives just to get what you want! You made be feel unsafe in my own home before my father ever did!” tears streamed down his face, “I can't _believe_ this! I looked up to you! I worshiped you like a true pioneer of archeology! Is that what you wanted!? Was all of that just an elaborate scheme to hurt more people!?”

Desmond waited until Randall was done ranting, pushing his glasses up his nose with shaking hands.

 _“Get in the car.”_ was it Desmond or Descole talking? They couldn't tell, _“We'll talk about this later.”_

Randall brushed past him, getting into the middle back seat and slamming the car door as hard as he dared. Hershel took his seat behind the front passenger's, much more numb than angry.

Hershel was usually proud of his ability to figure things out, but in this moment, all he wanted was to forget.

***


	13. Chapter 13

It was the worst three or so hours they'd ever had to endure. Desmond/Descole (whoever was at the helm at the moment) had replaced the roof of the car and turned on the heat, so it wasn't unbearably cold at least. Hershel looked out the window for most of the journey, but sometimes when he was brave enough, he risked a glance towards the other two. Randall was clearly lost in thought, fuming so much that his whole face was red. He was grinding his teeth together, and he had both arms crossed, leaning back and away from Hershel. It was a sign he didn't want to be bothered.

Desmond, on the other hand, was passive, his gaze fixed solely on the road. His expression was visible in the rearview mirror on the ceiling of the car. It kept flicking back and forth between scared and enraged, but it mostly just consisted of a mildly furrowed brow, the lenses in his glasses picking up too much glare for his eyes to be clear. Hershel wondered if Desmond had a split personality or if it was a simple case of having clear personas that were still the same person. Desmond was the normal persona, and Descole appeared in moments where Desmond was feeling an extreme emotion.

Hershel shook his head, _Does it matter!? Why do you care so much! He's not your brother!_

He's not my brother...

Finally, at long last, after so much agony, Desmond parked in the school parking lot.

Randall scrambled to get out of the car as fast as possible, so Desmond got out faster, “Randall, wait!”

“Don't talk to me!”

Desmond grabbed the collar of his shirt, “I mean it! Stop!”

“Get your hands off me you disgusting creep!” Randall threw a few punches that were easily dodged.

“I said _stop!”_ Desmond lifted him into the air, “Listen here, you animal! I have half a mind to-!”

“Desmond DON'T!”

Desmond’s gaze snapped to Hershel, and instantly Randall was dropped. Descole was gone. Randall scrambled to his feet.

“Please.” Desmond clasped his hands together, “Please don't tell anyone. I'm so close to destroying Bronev. I just need one final push, and I'll have my revenge. I don't care who you tell after that, but I need to keep going just a little bit longer. Please.”

Randall was about to shout again, but Hershel cut him off, “Fine! Just leave us alone!”

_“Hersh!”_

“Thank you. I promise, it'll make sense soon.” Desmond fixed his suit jacket, “And, Hershel...”

The two brothers locked eyes.

“Hershel...” Desmond swallowed as he turned around to leave, “Take care, won’t you?

_"Goodbye."_

Desmond disappeared into the early evening, and Randall returned to the car to place his hand on the roof.

“Randall...” Hershel wasn't sure what he was feeling, but it was like a stormcloud was swirling in his chest, “I don't know why-!”

Randall’s accusing glare made his heart jump into his throat.

“WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME DESCOLE WAS YOUR BROTHER!?”

Hershel was left with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Randall wasn't just mad at Desmond, he was mad at _him._

“I-I-I...” Hershel grabbed his hair, “Randall I was going to tell you, but I just, I don't know why-!”

_“I knew it!”_ Randall paced around the parking lot, roughly raking his hands up and down his face, “You just admitted it to me! You knew who Descole was, but you didn't tell me even after I told you how much I admired Sycamore and hated Descole!”

Randall paused for a long time, seemingly waiting for Hershel to explain himself. He couldn't though. What could he say? _I didn't know? I underestimated how much this would hurt you? I didn't want to hurt you so I kept it a secret? I was going to tell you but you figured it out first?_

“Fine. Don't tell me.” Randall took his glasses off to glare down at them, “Did you know I wear glasses because of him? He wears glasses like this for fashion, even though he doesn't need vision correction. Ha. What a _joke,_ right?”

There was a _crack!_ as Randall threw the glasses onto the pavement. One of the lens now had a huge fracture through it. It was amazing it still held itself together.

“Go back to your room, okay?” Randall began to walk away, “Oh, and don't talk to me. I need to think about things.”

Randall became a smaller and smaller smudge in the distance until he disappeared behind the doorway of the dormitory. Hershel slowly knelt down so he could pick up the discarded glasses. They made another pang echo in Hershel's heart. He collapsed onto his knees, clutching the glasses tightly in his hands. He was careful of the broken glass, but looking at them like this...it reminded him of the fear of losing Randall in Akbadain. He couldn't help but think about how hard Randall would have hit the ground. His bones would have broken just like this lens.

Hershel forced himself to move from the parking lot to the dormitory. He didn’t brush his teeth or change into pajamas, he didn't even get his luggage out of Clark's car. He just climbed into bed and covered his head with the pillow.

That was when he realized he was still wearing Randall's jacket.

Weighed down with so much sorrow and confusion, Hershel cried.

He cried, and he cried, and he cried...

***

“Randall?” Clark knocked on the open door as he entered, “I need my car back...”

Randall hadn't been looking forward to this. He popped his head out of the bathroom, “Oh hey, Clark. Sorry. I'll get it cleaned up in no time.”

Clark surveyed the room. It was covered in discarded clothes, crumpled pieces of paper, and various bits trash, “What on Earth happened in here?”

“Don't worry about it, I've just been a little distracted lately.” that was an understatement. Even when Randall was actively trying to think of literally anything else, Hershel just kept coming back to the front of his mind.

“So, um...”

“Yes, I'm on it.” Randall fished the keys out of his pants on the floor, “Just give me a few minutes to clean it out and it'll be good to go.”

He wanted to apologize to Hershel for snapping at him like that, but he always felt like he had to apologize to Hershel, and he felt really awkward trying to approach him after he exploded so badly. He knew it was selfish trying to stay away. It wasn't even Hershel's fault, and Randall knew that. Hershel must have been in the same thought process as him. Randall would have reacted badly to news like that no matter what, so Hershel was probably just trying to spare him the pain of the revelation. Maybe he was planning on telling him later, possibly after their vacation had ended. There was no way to know for sure now, and instead of just letting it lie, Randall had let his temper control him.

He hurt the very person he swore he would always protect. He cringed under the weight of his guilt.

He made up his mind. He would talk to Hershel today.

Randall stepped into the parking lot, where a crowd was gathering around what looked like an ambulance.

“Whoa.” Clark tried to see over all the heads, “Who is that? He looks important.”

Randall pushed through the crowd with his head down, fearing the worst. His uneasiness only grew as he got closer. He recognized Hershel's name, and he quickly sped up.

“Hersh?” Randall made it to the front, “Hershe-!”

His voice made a surprised squeak, and he covered his mouth.

They were found. The façade was up.

Mr. Ascot himself, in the flesh, was helping the paramedics escort Hershel into the ambulance, even though he was clearly putting up a fight.

“I don't need to go anywhere!” Hershel's voice shook, with anger or fear, Randall couldn't tell, “There's nothing wrong with me! I'm not sick!”

Randall was tempted to disappear back into the crowd. His father might still believe him to be dead. He might still have a chance to escape.

But he couldn't. He would never forgive himself for abandoning his best friend. He would never be able to live with himself for being such a coward. So, standing up tall, he moved beyond the crowd 

“Let him go, _Dad.”_

Mr. Ascot whipped his head around. Hershel's eyes widened when they fell on him, but it was too late for him to do anything about it.

“Randall...” Ascot had the decency to pretend to be happy to see him. Or was it really sincere? “I...I thought you were...”

“I know. You all did.” Randall’s skin crawled, but he didn't dare back down, “That was kind of the point.”

“Randall?” Claire was in the crowd too, “Wait...you're _that_ Randall? The one who was presumed dead in Craggy Canyon?”

“The very same.” Randall shoved his hands in his pockets, “Don't you see? Craggy Canyon is Akbadain.”

All the archeologists in the crowd gasped as they whispered to each other. Claire was dumbfounded. A marvel so elusive it was basically a myth, in such a normal geographical location?

Randall noticed that Hershel was still wearing his jacket. Had he been wearing it all day?

“My real name is Randall Gregory Ascot.” it was getting harder for him to hold his ground in the face of his father, but he did it anyway, “I was born on February twenty sixth, nineteen twenty three. I’m almost nineteen years old. I want to be an archeologist...and I faked my death to get away from you.”

Randall never considered himself sadistic in any way, but the shock and hurt in his father's eyes gave him a gross rush of euphoria. Just for that one moment, he felt like he could take on the whole world with nothing but his bare fists...

Then something in the scene shifted, and everything went black.

***


	14. Chapter 14

_“Hey.”_

_Hershel looked up as Randall sat beside him on the riverbank. Randall loved the way Hershel smiled at him. The corners of his mouth turned up just slightly, his eyes glistening like honey._

_Randall took his shoulder, “I'm glad you could make it!”_

_“Ah, well. You know.” Hershel picked at the grass, “It's hard to forget when you pester me all day.”_

_“It's not_ pestering!” _Randall roughly messed up Hershel's hair._

_“Hey!” Hershel pushed him, laughing, “I swear. I thought you'd be more careful now that Mister Ascot is on our trail.”_

_“Eh. It is harder to leave the house, but do you really think I'm going to just sit inside all day? Unlike you, Hersh, I’m an adventurer! I can't stay cooped up, I like to live!”_

_“Whatever you say.” Hershel looked out over the forest, watching the seam where the river dipped below the canyon, “In all seriousness, I am happy to see you outside again. I can see the difference.”_

_“Heh. Am I that easy to read?” Randall brushed his hair back, “Nevermind that! You know what we can do all the way out here!?”_

_Hershel's face turned red so close to Randall’s, and he loved it, “Um...explore?”_

_“Yes!” Randall slipped as he got to his feet, “Let's go! There's so much to see!”_

_Hershel cursed under his breath, “Randall! Wait for me!”_

_“Sorry. Excited.” Randall took his wrists to drag him forward, “Let’s go! There’s this really cool gorge out this way!”_

_He couldn’t help himself. Seeing the same things over and over again tended to drive him crazy. He tried to be patient when he took someone else with him, but sometimes he got ahead of himself. He could only pay attention to so much at the same time. Anything else essentially didn’t exist. The walk from that riverbank to the gorge was a long one, maybe 45 minutes, but Randall knew it would be worth it!_

_“Don’t trip!”_

_Randall halted at Hershel’s voice, reassessing his surroundings to ensure he was in no danger. Maybe that was the reason he always took someone with him. He got excited a little too easily, and he wanted to keep himself safe. A second perspective was always helpful._

_“Here it is! Look look!”_

_Hershel was panting, “Randall, this better be as...” he trailed off as he joined Randall on the edge of the gorge._

_The whole world dropped off into a massive lake that drained into the ocean further down. The grass clung to the cliffside, and the crashing of the waterfall down below created a steady mist over the landscape._

_“There’s a path off in this direction!” Randall headed that way, “Don’t worry. No more near-death experiences. I promised, after all.”_

_“Perfect.” Hershel followed him down the slope, “This is incredible. It was a long walk, though.”_

_“Obviously. You’re never going to find new things in the same areas you’ve already been to.” Randall ducked under an alcove near the waterfall, “Come here!”_

_It was cold under there, as it was under assault by a constant watery mist. Hershel rubbed his arms as he took a seat beside Randall, “Can you imagine? If I didn’t know you, I would be stuck inside all the time.”_

_“I would have gone even farther if you weren’t here.” Randall wrapped an arm around Hershel's shoulders, pulling him closer, “Trust me. One time, when me and Henry were playing outside, I completely slipped past his radar and he ran back into the house crying that he had lost me. Would you like to know where I was found?”_

_“Oh yes. I would love to know.” Hershel said, expecting Randall to say he was in the forest or in town somewhere._

_Randall laughed at himself, “I was_ under the porch!” __

_Hershel gave him an incredulous stare, “You were under the porch?”_

_“Yeah! You know that wooden porch along the back door that connects to the field? Well, there's this tiiiny crack where the ground isn't high enough to cover the wood, so I was able to squeeze my way underneath!” Randall hit his forehead, “All of the adults were too big to get me out, so poor Henry had to follow me inside and convince me to come out.”_

_Hershel could only imagine, “How old were you?”_

_Randall grinned cheekily, “Would you believe me if I said this happened recently?”_

_“No, Randall. I wouldn't believe you.”_

_“Good, because it happened when I was six.”_

_“Oh.” Hershel leaned forward, his arms on his knees, “That makes more sense.”_

_“Yeah. It's why someone always went with me on my adventures after that.”_

_Randall lost his smile. He didn't remember it of course, but his mom always told him stories of the shenanigans he got up to as a youngster. It made him miss her even more._

_Hershel was twiddling his thumbs in his lap, opening his mouth and then closing it again, so Randall brushed a lock of hair from his face._

_“Is something the matter? You look like you want to say something.”_

_“Ah. Well. Um.” Hershel rubbed the back of his neck, “I was just thinking...uh...since we're out here so far from town...I was wondering if...”_

_He swallowed thickly._

_“...if you wanted to kiss me again...?”_

_Randall could feel himself blushing, so he covered it with another laugh, “Okay. I mean...I'm not stopping you...”_

_He had always initiated kisses between them in the past, so he was curious to see what would happen if he gave the reins to Hershel. Randall leaned in just a little bit closer, but then he stopped. Hershel's face was now completely red, and he shifted in his spot a little bit as he looked away. If there was anything Randall loved more than archeology and adventuring, it was making his boyfriend flustered._

_“Well?” Randall lifted Hershel's chin to meet his gaze, “What are you waiting for?”_

_“Ah...u-um...” Hershel kept eye contact with him, though his eyebrows pressed down, “What if I mess it up?”_

_“Are you seriously going to overthink kissing me?” Randall took his face in his hands, “You think I have any idea what I'm doing? I just sort of go for it and hope I don't make you uncomfortable.”_

_“Well...” Hershel watched Randall retract his hands to place on the rock between them, “Alright, just don't make fun of me.”_

_“I swear I would never.” Randall cocked his head, “Go on. You'll do fine.”_

_Hershel was clearly still a tad apprehensive, but he took a deep breath as he leaned in, cradling Randall's cheek in one hand. Randall was practically buzzing with anticipation, but he forced himself to hold still. Hershel paused just as their noses brushed against each other, but then he allowed his eyes to slip closed as he leaned the rest of the way in. It was really soft at first, but as Randall seemed to be enjoying it, Hershel grew a little less hesitant overtime._

_Finally, he pulled back, but Randall's eyes were still closed, “How was that?”_

_Randall shakily inhaled, “Wow.” he opened his eyes, “That was really nice. I should let you lead more often.”_

_Hershel was still blushing up to his ears, but now he also had a blissful smile on his face, “Thank you. I don't know why that made me so nervous.”_

_“Well, you know. Nerves.” Randall scooted to the edge of the alcove, “Oh. We should probably be going. Your mom will want us back in time for dinner.”_

_“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me.” Hershel jumped out onto the dirt, “Don't worry. We'll have plenty of time to explore.”_

_“I know.” Randall led the way back up the slope, “And there will be plenty more memories to make.”_

***

Randall awoke to a throbbing pain in his head. He was delirious and confused, but he forced himself to sit up as his recent memories hit him like a slap in the face.

He was lying on some kind of cot in a dark concrete room, with nothing but a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The door was open, but the hallway was pitch black.

“Hershel.” Randall jumped from the bed, wincing when a ringing pierced his eardrums and he was forced to lean on the cot for support.

 _Ow ow ow ow._ Randall waited for his vision to clear before standing up again, slower this time.

That was when he noticed that someone had redressed him while he was sleeping. He still wore his own undershirt, boxers, and shoes, but overtop of that was some kind of thick hospital gown, instead of his usual lilac shirt and grey pants. He patted down where his pockets should be, but he had none of the trinkets he usually carried with him.

_Okay, Randall. This is fine. You can figure this out._

But he had no idea where he was. It looked like something out of a horror film, except...worse. At least films were only ever in grainy black and white, and oftentimes they had minimal sounds as well, but the light coming from the light bulb was tinted yellow. The hospital gown was green. The sounds subtly echoed in the hallways like some kind of tortured graveyard.

Randall didn't feel safe. He needed to get his hands on something, like a sword or a pipe, something he could use to defend himself with, but there was nothing. He would have even folded up the cot or broken a piece off of it, but it was bolted to the wall and in too good condition to break. Maybe he needed to see outside.

Moving into the hallway, Randall saw that each door had a name. His was _Randall Ascot_ of course, but there were others too. _Mary Alice, Johnny Snow, Penelope Prince._ He didn't recognize any of them. Not all the doors were open like his either, and many of the ones that did only opened to dark rooms with horrific smells that made Randall's blood curdle.

 _What the hell._ He passed another empty room. It had light, but there was no sign of another person aside from a fresh bloodstain underneath the bed. _What the hell is going on!?_

His stomach was in knots, but he forced himself to press onwards. If _he_ was scared out of his mind, who knows how _Hershel_ was bearing!

Finally, he reached the room labelled _Hershel Layton,_ but joy of joys, the door was not only closed, it was also locked. Randall tried to see through the tiny window on the door, but there was no light.

 _“Hershel.”_ Randall’s voice was too loud for him, even though he was barely breathing, _“Are you in here? Are you okay?”_

There was no answer. Randall gripped handfuls of his hair, resisting the urge to tear it from his scalp. Maybe Hershel just wasn't here right now. He would come back, surely. Well, wherever he was, Randall wasn't going to just sit here. He was going to fight, just as he always had.

 _“You can't just keep him in there!”_ a voice just barely heard through the concrete, _“I won't allow it! Let me see him!”_

Randall took off towards the voice, hope swelling in his chest. He made it to a more conventional-looking hospital door, with a bright window that hurt Randall's eyes. The voice was much clearer here.

_“No! I just saw him the other day! The only thing that drove him mad was the idea that he would come here!”_

Randall knew that voice, oh, what was his name? He was a friend of Hershel's, right? He sometimes filled in for Professor Delmona, didn't he?

What was his name?

 _“We can't let him go.”_ a different voice, much harder to hear as they weren't shouting, _“He needs to be here in case he relapses. It has gone untreated long enough.”_

_“I said the word ‘asylum’ in front of him, and he showed signs of Shell Shock! Don't lie to me! I know what Shell Shock looks like! I've seen it hurt people I care about! This is absolutely unacceptable!”_

_“Mister Schrader, if you don't leave right now, I'm going to call security.”_

Randall took a peek through the window once his eyes had adjusted to the light. Schrader was in front of some kind of reception desk, aiding in the illusion that this was just an ordinary hospital.

Schrader looked like he wanted to keep protesting, but no words came to him. Andrew Schrader! That's what Hershel said his name was. Randall tried to wrack his brain for anyone who could help them. He thought he had a golden opportunity right here.

He tested the doorknob. It was unlocked.

Andrew finally gave up, _“Fine, but I'll be back!”_

 _No!_ Randall helplessly watched as Andrew headed back towards the front door, _I have to do something right now!_ Who could he tell Andrew to help with their rescue? Someone who could break into an industrial compound? Someone who didn't care about breaking the law?

And then he realized that the answer was surprisingly obvious.

Before Andrew had a chance to open the door, Randall burst into the room.

“Desmond Sycamore!”

Andrew jumped as his gaze snapped to Randall, “Randall!?”

“Security!” the receptionist bellowed into the other hallway, “Escaped patient!”

“Get Desmond Sycamore! He'll know what to do!” Randall was grabbed by the security guards, “Please help! I don't know what else to-!”

The door slammed. He was surrounded by darkness. He was thrown down, and his room was shut before he had a chance to scramble back to his feet.

“Hey!” he pounded on the door after finding it locked, “Let me out! You can't keep me here! You can't-!”

He stopped when no replies came. Slowly sliding down the door until he was kneeling beside it.

“You can't...”

He was alone. Trapped in some kind of horrible horror movie setting. Nobody even gave him snarky comments. It was just...silence.

 _“Please...”_ He rested his head on the door.

_“Please help me...”_

***


	15. Chapter 15

He had no idea how long he was alone in there for. It could have been fifteen minutes, but it also could have been a whole day. There was no concept of time when there were no clocks, no pencils to mark anything, no stones to fiddle with...all he could do was think, and wring his hands together until his nails tore up his palms.

He thought about Hershel a lot. He cried every time he did.

_He could be dead._ he stared into the light bulb until spots were left in his vision, _He could be in the middle of torture right now. He could have had a heart attack from sheer terror alone. He could be given electro-shock. He could be lost in those weird memories the scars gave him. He could be so confused that he doesn't remember his own name anymore. He could be-!_

“Shut up!” Randall screamed into the room, “Be quiet! Leave me alone!”

He was lost in all manner of worst-case scenarios, especially after Andrew said that Hershel had Shell Shock. How could he have missed that? After knowing Hershel as long as he had, how had he been able to hide it for so long?

Maybe Desmond knew.

A loud _clang!_ echoed throughout the hallway outside, startling Randall enough that he fell off the cot.

His door quickly opened, and a familiar cape flew inside, “Get out of there, rat!”

Randall thought his heart would burst, “Descole! God, am I happy to see you!”

“Not now! I still need to find your friend!” Descole led Randall down the hall with their characteristic poise, “He wasn't in the room with his name on it.”

“Then where is he?” Randall shivered as he hurried to keep up.

Descole paused at the stairwell, “I don't know, but I fear the worst. You'd better keep up!”

“I'm right behind you!”

Descole briskly checked each floor until they found the label they were looking for. It was in the basement. Of course it was. Both of them sprinted down the stairs.

_He's dead._ Randall's mind helpfully told him, _It's all your fault._

They kept going, their shoes the only sound on the concrete steps, until they saw one particular room with double doors. It was surrounded by worried nurses, all talking to each other in hushed voices.

“What's going on!?” Descole threw their cape behind them, “Where is Layton!?”

“He isn't responding to anything we say!” one of the nurses covered her face with her arms, “He just screams if we get too close!”

Randall choked back a sob, “What did you do to him!?”

“It was standard procedure!” another nurse ran a hand through his hair, “It was going fine at first, but now he just seems confused about where he is, and...well, he keeps calling himself _‘Theodore Bronev’...”_

Descole became white as a sheet of paper.

“Theodore Bronev...?” Randall tried to see into the room, but the windows were too small to let in much light, “Descole, who is that?”

Descole hung their head, “Theodore Bronev doesn't exist anymore.”

They didn't elaborate on that.

Descole shook their head, their hat sliding only slightly askew, “Randall, open the door.”

Randall didn't hesitate on reaching for the door-!

“Wait! He's not ready-!”

“Did I stutter, welp!?” Descole glared daggers at the nurse who had spoken, “We cannot just leave him there! Honestly, you _all_ are imbeciles!”

Randall gulped, his reach wavering with his pounding heart. He feared what he would find in there. He didn't hear anything on this side of the door, but maybe that meant Hershel was trying to be quiet, in a room too dark to see.

Randall grasped the doorknob tightly in his hand, pushing it open slowly.

A beam of light washed into the room, illuminating a table hooked up to a scary-looking machine. Hunched over beside the table, sobbing into his hands, was Hershel, also in a green hospital gown. His breaths came quick and shallow, his gasps echoing sharply off the walls.

Randall took a step into the room, “Hershel...?”

“Stay away from me!” Hershel lifted his arms in defense, “Where's Hershel!? Where's Mum and Dad!? I want to go home!”

Randall froze, “H-Hershel...it's me. Randall. Remember?”

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Hershel's eyes were no longer black; They were grey. They were grey and unfocused, like he wasn't really seeing anything around him.

His voice, too...it wasn't natural.

_Schrader was right._ Randall thought in despair, _He really is shell-shocked._

“Wh-What..?” Hershel trembled, his hands on his chest, “Where's my brother? Where is Hershel?”

Randall had one last puzzle to figure out. Hershel was _his_ name, wasn't it?

It only took one more second for that last piece to click into place.

“Ah.” he backed out of the room, “So _that’s_ how it is.”

Randall's gaze went back to Descole, who for once was still enough that the cape fell around them, completely covering the suit underneath.

“Descole.” Randall gestured into the room, “I believe you once knew someone by the name of, ‘Hershel Bronev’.”

“No.” Descole snapped, “I mean, I did, but he doesn't exist anymore.”

“I know he doesn't.” Randall stepped to the side, leaving the door wide open, “But he has to. Just for a minute.”

He didn't wait for an answer. He carefully propped the door open and tried again to approach Hershel, his shadow cutting through the harsh beam of light spilling into the room.

“Hey, it's okay.” Randall slowed to a crawl, “I'm a friend. I'm getting you out of here, okay?”

Hershel seemed to calm at that, “Who are you?”

“My name is Randall.”

Hershel kept his eye trained on him, though he was simultaneously delirious, “What? What is your name?”

“Randall.” he finally got close enough to carefully kneel down and take Hershel's hand, “Hey, don't worry. The bad people are gone. They won't hurt you anymore.”

The grey in Hershel's eyes seemed to recede slightly, “Thank you.”

He was still shying away, though Randall could see some small signs of familiarity in him. He didn't realize just how much it would hurt for Hershel to not recognize him. He wanted to reach out, but he didn't want to startle him while he was in such a delicate state. He tried to speak, but his heart was lodged in his throat. His mouth was dry. His vision blurred.

_What do I do? Am I going to make it worse? What if I can't help him? What if I can't fix what I destroyed?_

A sudden tear spilled over his cheek, his thoughts halting as Hershel gazed at him with childlike concern. He was almost back in the present, Randall was sure of it, but what could he do?

Finally, Descole made up their mind, waltzing into the room and stooping beside Randall. Hershel’s gaze jumped to them.

“Theodore.”

Descole grabbed the mask, lowering it out of sight of the nurses outside. Randall was astounded. Descole’s -- no, _Desmond’s_ \-- eyes were bright blood-red like Descole's, but his pupils were dilated like Desmond's pupils normally were.

The two personas were speaking as one.

“There's no need to be afraid.” it was the most tender and calming voice Randall had ever heard come out of Descole, “We're going home.”

Hershel folded in relief, and Descole replaced the mask while Randall held Hershel close.

“I...” Hershel’s focus was back, “I remember. I remember everything.”

Descole scowled, “Pity. I had nearly forgotten. Oh well, it can't be helped. Let's go, you two.”

“Descole, wait just a second.” Randall held Hershel's shoulders tightly, “Hersh, why didn't you tell me you had Shell Shock?”

“What?” Hershel looked down at the ground, “I...I suppose I just...I didn't know.”

Randall took a shaking breath of air. He could do this. He promised.

“Hershel, I'm so sorry I yelled at you.” he let go to let his gaze drift away, “I know sorry doesn't cut it, I messed up really badly, but all I can do right now is tell you how sorry I am. I'm so sorry. _I'm so sorry.”_

“Randall.” Hershel took Randall's face to force him to look at him, “Randall, I forgive you.”

Randall squeezed his eyes shut, _“You shouldn't.”_

“But I do.” Hershel wiped Randall's tears away, “I understand. You can make it up to me later.”

“But I-!”

“Randall, listen to me. I know you mess up a lot, but do you know what you also do? You encourage me, and you help me. You push me to be the best person that I can be.” Hershel loosened his grip, his expression softening, “If it weren't for you, I may never have even left my comfort zone. I may never have found my passion for teaching. Do you honestly think I would forsake you for losing your patience one time?”

Randall covered his mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stop more tears from falling. His voice came out as a harsh whisper, _“Hersh...I love you so much...”_

_“I love you too.”_ Hershel gently moved Randall's hands aside so he could press a kiss to Randall's lips.

_“Mmm...”_ Randall let it linger, forgetting where they were and what they were doing. All he could perceive in that moment was Hershel, and the smell of chocolate that always seemed to stick to Hershel's skin.

And he wasn't sure, but he could have sworn that when he glanced up through half-lidded eyes, Descole was giving them a coy smirk before they disappeared into the hallway.

***

The three of them were silent as they escaped. Descole was able to fight through every security measure. They always seemed to have a sword on them no matter how many they lost, and they were incredible at self-defense. If there were too many at the same time, they would throw a smoke bomb at the ground and grab the two boys in the confusion to disappear. This was around the time the boys got their own clothes back.

Finally, Descole brought Hershel and Randall to an empty office in the university, with only two windows which were promptly blocked.

“Alright.” Descole moved to the center of the room, “The coast is clear.”

What they did next blew the two boys’ minds; They grabbed the corner of their cape, threw it over their head, and suddenly they were just Desmond, glasses and all, with no cape or mask or hat in sight.

Randall threw his hands up, “How do you do that?”

Desmond grinned, “I have my ways.” his glasses caught glare from the overhead light, “In any case, I'm glad you both made it out. I really need to break that whole building as soon as Bronev is taken care of.”

“Yeah, that was my next question.” Randall lifted one finger in the air, _“What the hell!?”_

“Heh. Eloquent.” Hershel shrugged towards Desmond, “Well...you see, Hershel was not my original name. I was born Theodore Bronev to Rachel and Leon Bronev. They were Mum and Dad to me, as opposed to Ma and Pa or Mother and Father. Desmond was Hershel Bronev. He was my older brother.”

“We were a happy family, for a time...” Desmond sighed, “Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to last. When I was twelve and Hershel was seven, we were assaulted by an organization known as Targent, and our parents were kidnapped. We both ended up with Shell Shock.”

“We were taken to asylum, where we suffered their horrible ‘treatments’.” Hershel filled in for him, “It made everything worse, and my Shell Shock extended to the asylum, where most of my flashbacks would ultimately take me. We were saved by an old doctor there, and he helped to get us to our adopted families.”

Desmond smiled warmly at Hershel, “That's when the name thing came into play. There were two families willing to adopt, but each could only take one child. I was supposed to be adopted first, but you can't leave a seven-year-old without a family for that long. The doctor couldn't help us out at that point, so I did the only thing I could think of; I gave Hershel my name so that he would be adopted first.”

Hershel rolled his sleeve down slightly to look at the scratch marks. For once, he didn't feel restless or lost or upset looking at them. It was simply a reminder of simpler times, and he could live with that.

“He went to the Laytons, and I went to the Sycamores.” Desmond moved to the door, ensuring nobody was waiting for them outside, “Hershel, I know we aren't brothers anymore, but please, don't be afraid to reach out if you need something, and don't worry about Ascot. I'm with Andrew on this; I'm going to fight for your right to stay in this school, and I'm not letting you or Randall go back to that damn asylum.”

Hershel dropped his arm, “Actually, wait one moment.”

He did, “Yes?”

Hershel massaged his forehead, deciding to say this before he lost his nerve...

“I'm sorry for taking your name.”

“What?” Desmond chuckled before he could stop himself, “No, Hershel. You didn't take my name; I gave it to you. You didn't ask for it. That name served me well while I had it, but I have a new name now, and I hope you'll take care of yours for as long as you need it.”

Hershel nodded, “What am I saying? You're absolutely right! Thank you for the name, Desmond.”

“You're very welcome.” Desmond opened the door, “Anyway, I'll see you again, but hopefully not as Descole. Stay away from them, alright? So long.”

He left the door open, so Hershel and Randall listened to Desmond's footsteps until they were too far away to hear.

“So...” Randall clasped his hands together, “What do we do now?”

Hershel thought back, “Uhhh...give Clark his car back?”

“Oh my god!” Randall took off, and Hershel quickly ran to catch up. It was unclear how safe they were or what their future would look like, but at least they had a moment to breathe in this odd thing we call life.

“Come on, Hersh!” Randall's smile was blinding, “We've got work to do!”

THE END


End file.
